





bel
 of

 prairie eden








a romance of mexico











by george lippard esq


author of

washington and his generals or legends of the revolution

the quaker city ampc ampc









you
see it is a sad and yet a beautiful story stranger and it begins on the wild prairie

goes on in the city of vera cruzwinds up in philadelphia a sad story

and im loath to tell it but as were here alone by the camp fire and may never

see one another again ill tell it to you but first your word stranger that youll

never tell it again until i am dead




from the mss journal of a soldier of monterey










boston




published by hotchkiss amp co courtstreet





















acknowledgment







 
 






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entered according to act of congress in the year by george h williams in the

clerks office in the district court of the district of massachusetts

















main text







 
 











chapter i







 
 






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they
are strangely superstitious these wild

men of the prairie who with rifle in hand

and the deep starlight of the illimitable

heavens above wander in silence over the

trackless yet blooming wilderness left

to their own thoughts they seem to see

spectral forms rising from the shadows

and hear voices from the other world in

every unusual sound among their superstitions

there is one which has often struck

me with its singular interest and beauty





mss of a texan







come brother it is a beautiful viewlook

yonder 
the boy advanced from the shadow of the

oak and gazed upon the prairie bathed in the

light of the setting sun he was but a boy

slender and girlish in form and yet he grasped

a rifle in his hand and carried a knife in

his belt 
his brother did not seem to heed him but

stood leaning against the trunk of the oak his

arms folded over his rifle while his downcast

eyes were fixed upon the sod the sun in

its last glow cast a warm light over his broad

chest and muscular form and invested with a

golden flush his fine aquiline features shaded





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



by a dark beard and flowing black hair it

was altogether a striking face the eyes

somewhat sunken beneath the welldefined

brows were large black and strangely brilliant

he would have been observed and

gazed at in any company and even now as

he stood beside the oak the boundless prairie

around and the great god above there was

something noble in his look and bearing it is

true he wore a plaid grey frock reaching to

the knee and edged with fur yet this unpretending

garment displayed a broad chest supported

by a waist at once slender and pliable

and revealed the iron outline of his sinewy

arms its color pale grey gave a richer

lustre to the sunset glow which bathed his

face 
on the sod before him lay his hat a rude

thing of grey felt with skullcrown and wide

slouching brim it was decorated with a

single black feather 
come brother john look is it not a

beautiful view our men the volunteers of

prairie eden encamped on the prairie near

this knoll their horses grazing on the rich

grass as gathered in a circle their rifles near

them they build the campfire and prepare

for their evening meal look at the sky

johnnot one cloud yes one a little

cloud hovering like a bird in the west just

over the setting sun and turning blue purple

and gold as the light grows brighter ere

it fades the prairie johnthe grass moving

like waves at sea with all kinds of beautiful

flowers starting from the sod come

dont stand muttering there come i say 
and the slender boy laid his hand upon his

brothers arm and playfully sought to raise

his head 
the brother still absorbed in his thoughts

did not heed him 
here we are thirty miles from san antonio

shall we go forwardshall we return

home 
homepshaw did not we leave prairie

eden this morningwe 



we
 echoed the older brother raising

his eyes and surveying the girlish form before

him 
yes
we
the voluntears of prairie eden

composed of mr jacob grywins two sons

forty white laborerssome civilized people

from the states others german emigrants

and ten black slaves not to mention ewen

mcgregor who now comes up the knoll to

speak with
captain
john grywin 
john raised his eyes surveyed for a moment

the smoke of the camp fire in the prairie

not one hundred yards from where he

stood and then his gaze rested upon the new

comer 
you will observe that the knoll on which

the brothers stood was one of those delicious

green islands which dot the rolling surface of

the wild texan prairie and are seen by the

wayfarer sometimes at the distance of thirty

miles it was crowned by a solitary tree a

greak oak whose trunk three men could not

have spanned with their extended arms

broad and wide above the brothers head

stretched out the rugged branches clad in a

glorious drapery of silvery moss which floated

like a shining shroud among the deep

green leaves 
captain john while the boys take their

supper ive come up here to have a little

talk with you 
it was a harsh grating voice the figure

was that of a giant so towering in stature so

massive in the bulllike chest and formidable

long arms whose corded sinews were impressed

upon the folds of the grey sleeves

the face was like the form huge and burly

a red visage with white eyebrows and eyelashes

short stiff red hair and an immense

red beard matted like the mane of some wild

animal it was not the most prepossessing

form in the world nor the prettiest face yet

an air of bluff hearty frankness seemed to

pervade each featureeven the mouth with

thick lips and the large eyes with yellowish

ballsand govern the movement of every





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



limb as ewen mcgregor drew near the

oak 
well ewen or rather lieutenant mcgregor

 said john 
you see when we left prairie eden this

morning bound for san antonio in obedience

to a proclamation of the president of texas

which summoned all good citizens to the

western frontier menaced as it is by a fresh

mexican invasionwhen we left i say there

was some things which we
did
know and

some things which we
ought
to know but

did

not

know by 
well ewen said john calmly surveying

the bluff form hefore him while harry

looked on with a sort of comical wonder dilating

his clear blue eyes 
we are going to san antonio resumed

ewen resting his rifle on the sod for

days there has been a rumor of the approach

of the mexican general who commands at

presidio del rio grande how do we know

that at this very moment this general don

bascus is not in possession of san antonio

 
if we dont know we can easily ascertain

a ride of thirty miles after dark will bring

us to san antonio before midnight 
this cool respone seemed to disconcert the

bluff ewen 
but capt john suppose the town should

be occupied by some thousand mexican

devils 
that would make us equal fifty white

men of texas are equivalent to one thousand

mexicans any day that computation is in

some degree unfair for it gives one texan and

his good rifle for twenty mexicans you see

ewen general bascus and his thousand men

must not stand in the way of fifty volunteers

from prairie eden 
not mentioning the ten niggers laughed

harry as he mischievously pulled red ewen

by the heard well fling the darkies in

and not make any charge for them 
was it a flush of anger that crossed ewens


face he was silent for a moment and then

in a voice and with a manner which indicated

a man of some education he resumed 
let us dismiss all jesting on the subject

john general bascus whose approach is

indicated by a rumor that grows more like

truth every hour has not merely a thousand

men but ten thousand incarnate devils with

him suppose you go on to san antonio to

night and fall into his clutches just think

of it johnyou and your brother and all

your laborors and slaves dragged away to rot

in a mexican prison while your
father
and


isabel
await your return at prairie eden 
this picture touched john with great force

harrys smile died away and tears filled his

blue eyes 
o john ewen speaks the truth what

would become of father and isabel in case

we were taken prisoners 
yes i see it now i was wrong this morning

to leave them so utterly unprotected at

prairie eden to be sure our home is isolated

their is not much danger from the indians

and as for the neighbors the nearest

is ten miles from prairie eden but what

would you propose 
remain encamped here tonight it will

be time enough for us to go on our way tomorrow

morning and in the meantime

but look to the east do you see that knoll

distant some ten miles 
they followed the direction of his brawny

hand and saw the knoll rising dim and

vague among the mists which began to

whiten the eastern prairie 
i know ben davis the scout who has

pitched his cabin there if any one can give

us any news of the mexicans hes the man to

do it by your leave i will take my horse

ride over there and have a talk with him i

can be back long afore midnight 
johns face manifested some thought it

seems about the best course 
oh let him gothink of fatherisabel





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



cried harry sezing his brother by both his

hands 
ewen smiled at harrys earnestness and

smiled until his thick lips parted and his decayed

irregular teeth were visible 
well ewen youd better go and mind

ye let your return be as speedy as possible

 
trust me for
that
 
and red ewen turned away without a

moments delay and descended the knoll

bending his steps towards the encampment

they saw his broad knife glistening in the

sun as he crushed the grass with his long

heavy strides 
do you remember ewen in philadel

harry began as he surveyed the peaceful

group of the encampment of rugged hunters

encircling the fires which sent their volumes

of pale blue smoke into the sky 
hush and johns brow grew dark his

eye flashed with sudden intensity we never

mention that name in the prairie 
there he goes the giant with red head

and thick lips look how he rides 
wishing to drive his brothers thoughts

from a painful topic he stretched forth his

small white hand and pointed towards ewen

who was seen dashing towards the east

mounted on one of those fiery horses peculiar

to the prairie with eyes like coals and

long black matted mane 
john stood buried in thought the twilight

was gathering over the prairie and in the

broad west glowed the last flush of the departed

sun a fresh breeze arose and came

tossing the grass like waves as it gathered

perfume from the innumerable flowers 
henry gazed with some awe in the face of

his older brother and saw his brow grow

darker his eye more wild and absent in its

glance 
its always the way with him when i mention

that name he said and turned away to

the western edge of the knoll 


it
was a very beautiful thing to see the


last flush of the day imparting its soft golden

warmth to that boyish face whose white brow

and clear blue eyes seemed animated with a

deep tranquil delight 
the boy was gazing to the west far far

over the boundless view as the night seemed

hovering above the prairie pausing for a moment

ere it came down to kiss its flowers and

sleep upon its breast 
far in the northwest the level line of the

horizon was broken by an almost imperceptible

elevation which shone like a golden point

from the shadows which sheltered around and

beneath henry gazed upon that elevation

earnestly and long until his breath came in

gasps his blue eye acquired a light wellnigh

as intense as his brothers 
that must be
prairie eden
 he said as

sinking on the sod he crossed his hands upon

his knees and thought while the night came

down of home of father and isabel 
the night came slowly in its starlight drapery

and still the boy harry sat in silence on

the edge of the prairie knoll his slender form

couched artlessly on the tall thick grass while

his eyes were raised to the heavens and an

indefinable emotion stole over his face believe

me it was a face to love so much of

woman in its every outline and yet a firmness

like that of tried manhood manifested

in the sudden flash of the blue eyes the quick

nervous compression of the warm lips 
and the breeze tossed his soft brown hair

and floated it in glossy masses over his forehead

but could not hide the tears that came

imperceptibly into his eyes and made them

shine the brighter in the deep starlight 
i know what they are now doing now at

prairie eden i can see the wide hall lighted

up and father sitting near the table with

the bible on his knee sister is near him

bending over his shoulder as he reads yes

yes i can see her black ringlets touching his

grey hair and floating upon his fore head it

is a happy home and




				 
				
				
			






			 
				
				 
 

				






his fancy dared not look upon the picture

of the future for a vision of war and battles

rose up before him and while his young blood

danced with the raptures of a soldiers life he

seemed to hear a voice which said

and

that home you will never reach again

 
long he sat there absorbed in his own

thoughts while from the other side of the

knool the songs and merry voices of the encamped

volunteers of prairie eden broke unheeded

on his ear at last his waking thoughts

melted in a dream and sinking on the sod

with the rifle in his hand he slept the sound

sleep of boyhoodthat sleep worth all the

gold and power in the world for angels watch

over it and fan the sleepers cheek with their

invisible wings 
he unclosed his eyes at last and started up

halfdreaming and but half awake the

morn was rising over the prairie far in the

east a globe of pale gold was seen on the verge

of the horizon gleaming a sad and solemn

light as it was about to launch away into the

great ocean of the sky 
as harry started to his feet a dark object

interposed between his sight and the moon

he passed his hand over his forehead and

with the peculiar nervous fear of one suddenly

aroused from a sound slumber uttered an

ejaculation that broke with startling emphasis

on the dead silence of the prairie 
for all was dead and still the camp fires

had gone out the song of the hunters died

away not a voice nor soundno vision

but the great prairie stretching forth in the

light of the rising morn with that unknown

object towering black and dark before him 
who comes there he stood with the

rifle in his grasp his finger on the trigger 
a voice answered himcould it be his brothers

so changed and hollowharry it is

i it scarcely rose above a whisper

hushnot a word our horses are ready

at the foot of the knollcome 
wondering whether he was awake or

dreaming he suffered that extended arm to


lead him silently down the knoll he saw his

own horse and his brothers standing there

the saddles on the horses the reins flung over

their necks and for the first time recognized

his brother in the dusky figure 
mount and his brothers face was turned

to the moon harry saw with indefinable

fear that the features were changed his eyes

unnaturally vivid and glaring the broad forehead

marked with swollen veins 
brother he faltered out as he placed

his feet in the stirrups 
not a word turn your horse towards

prairie eden and ride as though a thousand

deaths were dogging at his heels do not

spare the spurfollow me 
johns horse plunged beneath the merciless

iron and dashed through the grass as

though possessed by a devil 
henry saw his brothers form rising boldly

in the moonlight and urged his own horse

forward at the top of his speed 
but the volunteers brother he cried as

he gasped for breath 
ride i say that star in the northwest

you see it dont take your eyes from it

on in the name of god that star shines

above prairie eden 
away they dashed without a word their

horses maddened by the sharp steel points

bounding over the sod with an accelerating

speed that seemed rather like the flight of a

bird than the pace of an animal 
not a word passed between the brothers

for harry panting for breath and racked by

the plunging gait of his horse looked on the

form of john wiih an unknown feeling something

between wonder and awe 
once or twice a word trembled on his lips

but still his brother without turning his

head muttered between his teeth 
ridespur it is thirty miles to prairie

edenwe must reach it in two hours or we

are accursed for ever 
there was something terrible in the sight

these black horses with snorting nostrils





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



and starting eyeballs plunging over the prairie

while their riders dug the spurs into their

flanks until the blood spouted forth and mingled

with the white foam 
the moon shone over them as they dashed

away and flung their shadows far and black

upon the waving grass john never once

turned his head but kept his eye fixed on the


star
 harry could not keep his gaze from

his brothers changed and ghastly faceit

held him like a spell 
at lastit was when the moon was high

above the horizon and an hour and a half had

passed awayharrys horse stumbled and

fell the blood pouring in torrents from his

nostrils 
severely bruised and halfstunned harry

struggled from beneath the flanks of his dying

horse and saw john reining his steed back

on his haunches 
your horse is dyingcome give me

your hand spring up before menow then

yonder is the island knoll of prairie eden

only five miles distant 
harry felt his brothers strong arm around

his chest and saw his eyesalmost touching

his cheekflash with the same unnatural fire

he felt that his brother was mad and grew

cold as ice although the breath that fanned

his cheek was like the air of a furnace


 
only four milesdo you see the knoll

harry the house among the trees

ah 
down came the horse upon his kneeshe

made an effort to rise trembling in every

nerveit was in vain with that desperate

effort he rolled upon the sod the brothers

half bruised beneath his quivering flanks it

was scarcely an instant before john had gained

his feet and rescued his brother from his

perilous situation 
harryare you hurt have you strength

left to run those four miles take your rifle

and come 
he clutched his brother in an iron grasp


add hurried him away rather dragging him

along than running by his side 
it may have been a dream he muttered

but no noi saw
him
with my eyes

before me 
saw
him
 harry gasped as all the

blood in his body seemed rushing to his

eyes 
yes i saw
him
no visionreality my

brother horrible reality my god the moon

fades the day is breaking weve at least

four miles to go do not fall harry do not

fainta firm heart my boy and god will

bless us you know i am not superstitious

but tonight as i stood beside the oak while

you lay sleeping near me i saw
him
 with

his white beard and spectral eyes andhe

was dressed like an old hunter harryyou

have heard the old prairie hunters tell of him

how he walks the prairie at dead of night

and starts suddenly upon you from the earth

at your horses side or even from the sod

where you lay sleeping he wakes you with

an icecold handso the hunters tell the

story but you know they are superstitious

i believe in nothing of the kindibut tonight

i saw him at my side look harry

the sun is rising and were three miles from

the knoll 
thus gasping these incoherent words as

he dragged his awestricken and fainting brother

along john kept his eyes upon the knoll

and his face grew even yet more pale his

eyes more frenzied as the first ray of the

rising sun shot like a golden thread across

their path 
saw whom speak john your face

frightens mei believe im dying he

sank on one knee 
harry my dear boymy childoh do

not faint now in a little while and we are

there you are strong harry it is but fancy

come i will carry you but i saw him to

night and talked with him

the old man of

the prairie

that spectre of these horrible

solitudes who comes to the dwellers in the





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



wilderness and tells them of coming evil

nothing but evil he told melook harry

the sun is shining on the knoll 
ere we record the full history of the event


ful nightit was in the springtime of 

that these incidents occurredlet us in order

to understand the history in all its details

gaze on a scene which occurred some ten

years before












chapter ii

prairie eden







 
 






				 
				
				
			







			 
				
				 
 

				







a home in the wilderness for the wanderers

and outcasts of civilization





texan mss





a lone indian stood on the summit of the

mound 
it was in the centre of one of those prairies

which in their boundless view their vast

horizon remind us of the ocean only for

waves of foam we behold emerald grass

tossing with gentle undulations their summits

crested by the roses of the wild rising into

view like sea foam tinted by the last glow of

a setting sun 
these prairies like the ocean have their

islandsgreen mounds that rise above the

boundless level blossoming on their banks

with flowers and vines crowned on the summit

with aged trees that stand in circular

groups like the solemn mourners over the

dead centuries 
a lone indian leaning on his rifle his muscular

form attired in a panthers hide which

left his sinewy arms and broad chest bare to

the light stood on the summit of a green

island in the centre of that boundless prairie 
his head was drooped his dark eye fixed

by strange emotions glared with an immoveable

gaze over the glorious view 
around the prairie that rolled away far

into the distance until it became lost in the

hazy line of the horizon above the blue sky

of a summers day dimpled only by a group

of snowy clouds that seemed to undulate in


midair the clear azure gleaming distinctly

through their feathery folds even as a virgins

bosom looks more beautiful through a veil of

lace by his side a massive oak the broad

green leaves almost touching the tuft on his

shaven brow alone that indian stood his

body turned to the west while with his face

over his shoulder he gazed long and sadly

upon the eastern land 
it was a sad gaze eloquent as a smile

upon the lips of a dying man whose veins are

racked by superhuman torture 
the trees of the island grove were all

around him giant oaks not more than

twenty in number circled on a space some

three hundred yards square their trunks

were like the huge pillars of some temple

reared in the wilderness to god massive as

blocks of granite and encrusted with the

thick bark that had been hardening for centuries

three hundred years had written

their dusky memories upon that rugged rind

of the ancient oaken trees white moss

clothed their farspreading branches and

graceful vine blossoms trembled among their

leaves of luxuriant green 
a hundred men might have encamped with

ease beneath each grand old oak and found

shelter from the sun and rain in the shadow

the silence the fragrant air of the green island

of the boundless prairie 
the sod smooth as a floor and covered

with dark green moss was sprinkled with

flowers whose unnumbered shapes of graceful

beauty and dyes of rainbow loveliness

neither pencil nor pen can ever paint upon





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



the foliage quivered the drops of last nights

shower 
and in the centre of the island a spring of

clear cold water bubbled into light between

two huge rocks and without a visible outlet

kept murmuring and sparkling forever always

clear cold and pure 
the indian gazed to the west and the silent

eloquence of his deep eye found vent in

his rude indian tongue 
my fathers dwelt here when these giant

trees were saplings not higher than my rifle

where are they now before this knoll itself

was reared as the grave of warriors red

men were upon this soil the kings the prophets

of their people where are they now

the bones of the mighty men rest in the bosom

of this knollbut their children where

are they look for them far away by the

great salt lake in the land of the setting

sun 
once more the indian turned his eye to the

east as though in the dim line of the horizon

he already discerned the banners and bayonets

of white civilization and then turning

sadly away he sat him down by the waters of

the island spring 
water that comes from the caverns where

my fathers sleep i drink from your fountain

once more and drink for the last time ere i

depart forever 
bathing his hands and brow in the pure

element of the island fountain he went on

his way toward the west and came back no

more 
years passed on and that prairie of the

wilderness was left to solitude and god in

the tall grass the deer with branching horns

and mild eyes moved over the flowers the

roses the dahlias and the lilies of the desert

without a fear along the summit of the island

came herds of wild cattle drinking one

by one at the pure springgazing for a moment

at the boundless yiew and then dashing

away through the sea of undulating grass like

a cloud hurled by a thunder storm some


times the wolf gaunt and lean and treacherous

as a hypocrite stole over the sod of the

island grove and the caguar with its flashing

eye and sleek fur dipped his bloodstreaked

jaws in the clear wave of the island fountain


 
but man came nevermore along the prairie

the indiansearch for him toward the

west in the land of the setting sun the

white manyonder in the region of the

rising sun he dwells his footsteps have

never pressed this virgin soil 
ten years passed and a strange sight was

seen one summer morning upon the summit of

the island grove 
a large mansion reared in the space between

those circling trees and built of massive

logs disclosed its lofty hall door its

many windows and its steep roof varied by

numerous chimnies to the beams of the rising

sun 
the huge trees stretched forth their boughs

above its roof and the vines trailed in festoons

about its windows its black timbers looked

out from the graceful drapery of the white

moss hanging like a silvery shroud from

branch to branch and from tree to tree 
altogether this huge mansion looked like

a baronial fabric of the middle ages invested

as it was with the tokens of a barbarous luxury

something between savage grandeur and

refined civilization it was two stories in

height with four spacious rooms on a floor

these rooms were divided on the first floor

by a spacious hall on the second by a corridor


 
instead of paint or plaster the walls of log

were concealed by hangings of various hues

and devices some of dark green cordovan

leather edged with gold some of the richest

silk the chairs the tables the fire places

and the stairway were all on the same scale

of antique grandeur mingling luxury and

rudeness in every detail 
from the centre of their island grove this

spacious mansion rose with the green sod all





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



around it the trees half closing it from the sun

and rain the cool fountain bubbling near it

some few paces to the west 
yonder north of the grove you behold

fields of emerald corn with small huts built

of logs rising from the quivering leaves on

the prairie graze herds of sleek cattle iheir

dappled sides contrasting with the rich grass

around the quivering beds of wild flowers beneath

and at the morning time a column

of blue smoke rises over the tops of the trees

and glows like the white breast of a bird

turned to the rising sun it is incense from

the fireside of the prairie home 
who is it that dwells within the prairie

home 
a father and his three children 
that father a man of slender form grey

hairs and sad aspect he was known by the

name of jacob grywin the nearest neighbort

who lived only ten miles from the island

grovelooked with wonder mingled with

some awe upon the sad stern man who had

so suddenly erected his home in the wilderness


 
he cameno one knew whither in the

year after the young texas had struggled

into independence through the bloody

clouds of soliad the alamo and san jancentho

the emigrant first appeared on the prairie

and with his family of three children his

retainerssome fifty in number and mostly

from the statessome dozen german colonisis

and as many slaves reared the mansion

known by the appropriate name

prairie

eden

 
two years had passed and the unknown

emigrant living in a kind of barbarous splendour

beheld his children rising round him

like fruit and flowers nursed into vigorous

bloom by the air of the wilderness 
his sons presented a strong contrast john

aged twentyone was a man of stalwart yet

graceful propoetions with a dark brown visage

strongly marked with aquiline features

and shadowed by dark hair and beard he


was a magnificent horseman and a fearless

hunter as he mounted his dark bay horse

with his riffe old king death as he quaintly

called it slung over his shoulder his long

hair floating in the wind and his eaglelike

features marked boldly out against the sky

he looked for all the world like a true knight

of the chivalric age 
harry his brother a mere boy of sixteen

with girlish form and beardless face along

whose smooth outline flowed his curling brown

hair compared with john reminded you of

the quivering sapling beside the hardy oak

and yet there was a volume of daring in the

glance of his dark blue eye john loved him

as though he was at once father brother and

friend to girlish harryeven as david loved

jonathan with a love passing the love of women


 
the third child three years younger than

john and of course one year older than

harry i see her now standing upon the

porch of the mansion her dark hair plainly

turned aside from the warm beauty of her

face while her round arms full bust and

passionate eyes attest an impetuous nay a

voluptuous woman 
she was indeed one of the women whom

we call queenly especially in case our

knowledge of queens is limited her stature

was commanding her complexion a clear

deep olive burning with red bloom on each

cheek her lips full and warm and tinted

with dewy vermillion her forehead white

and high with the jetblack hair shadowing

its outlines 
these words may give you some idea of

bel grywin but no words can describe how

suddenly her face changed its expression

now glooming like a thunder storm the eyes

armed with lightning and the brow gathering

blackness and in a moment soft and yielding

and tender as the face of a slumbering

child 
when the eye of the father rested upon the





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



faces of his children the cloud passed from

his brow but when he was alone either

striding along the porch of his mansion in

gazing silently over the great prairie or passing

with catlike step from room to room

there was a gloom upon his features which

to say the least was not pleasant to behold 
that sidelong glance toward the window

or the door that involuntary start at the sound

of a footstep what did they mean 
what need jacob grywin fear centered

in the midst of this prairie afar from civilization

and yet surrounded by all its comforts

nay its luxuries his children blooming round

him and his slaves and laborers ready to do

his will what had he to fear 
there came a day in the spring of 

when the proclamation of the texan president

summoned all good citizens to the western

frontier in order to defend the soil of the

young state from a threatened invasion

mexico was of course known to be the invader

and the impulse of the invasion santa

anna 
vague rumors floated over the prairie telling

of outrages on the frontier and it soon

became a settled opinion that santa anna

like the bourbons could neither forget nor

learn it became evident that the horrid

butcheries of past years were again to be enacted

on texan soil that santa anna who

had been dragged from a swamp clad in the

garb of one of his lacqueys after the battle of

san jacintopresenting a rather contemptible

image of despair had not forgiven the

texans for sparing his life in a certain view

of the matter he was right for if even a murderer

forfeited his life by a series of coldblooded

butcheries that murderer was don

antonio lopez de santa anna 


among other rumors it was announced that

don general something from the oresidio

del rio grande was approaching the western

frontier in formidable force his object

the possession and plunder of san antonio

near which still arose the blackened walls of

the alama 
these rumors reached the solitude of prairie

eden one morningit was when the

spring of was melting into summer

john had a mysterious and energetic conversation

with his father and ere an hour had

passed the entire population of prairie eden

numbering nearly seventy men of all colors

and nations had taken horse and rifle and

ridden away in the direction of san antonio

de bexar 
mr jacob grywin and his daughter bel

alone remained on the island knoll 
at the head of the volunteers of prairie

eden rode the brothers john and harry by

their side the overseeer of the plantation

red ewen mcgregor a man of gigantic

frame and rude aspect who seemed connected

with the old man by some mysterious and

indefinable tie 
it was johns object to advance to san antonio

with all his disposable force join his

men with other bands of volunteers and make

a texan resistance to the approaching mexican

army he did not contemplate an absence

of more than one week from prairie

eden the isolated position of his fathers

mansionso they all saidwas its surest

defence against any predatory attack 
let us now return to this night in the

spring or early summer of 












chapter iii

the chamber of bel of prairie eden







 
 






				 
				
				
			







			 
				
				 
 

				







a hideous alternativeyour honor or
his


life





texan mss






it
was deep night and the stars shone with

their calm sad light over the mansion and the

grove of prairie eden 
in the mansion all was still as death the

old man slumbered in his chamber on the

ground floor his daughter slept in her room

on the second floor all the other chambers

were tenantless and a silence like the tomb

brooded over the corridors of that prairie

home the wind sighed mournfully through

the tops of the trees as their mossy branches

swept the roof the sound of the island fountain

making low music as it bubbled from

its cavern source was heard in every pausa

of the breeze 
yet within the mansiontenanted only by

the old man and his childall was darkness

and silence 
the chamber of isabel 
a large room lighted by a lamp that stands

upon a table near the bed and sheds a feeble

and flickering ray it is shadowy here in

this bower of virgin repose and yet you may

discern the luxurious details of the place

soft matting on the floor whose downlike

texture would not return too rudely the pressure

of an infants naked foot curtains of

pale crimson silk hanging from the ceiling

nd imparting a warm roseate glow io the


face of the sleeper yonder an image of the

divine virgin a marble shape elevated on its

snowy pedestal and over the mantel a picture

of a wildwood scene in fardistant pennsylvania


 
the bed with curtains and coverlet and

pillows all like a snow bank freshly fallen

from the sky so pure so white so spotless

the curtain is slightly parted through the interval

gleams the vision of that face framed

in the darkly flowing hair and pillowed on

right arm that bosom which now is lost to

view and now quivers into light above the

tremulous lace of the night robe a beautiful

woman slumbering with her lips so ripe in

their red bloom gently parted until they disclose

the white teeth the eyes closed with

the long black fringes resting on the cheek

it is a sight for angels to behold and love 
she tosses in her slumberyou see a full

round arm with its small hand all beautiful

as an arm and hand of alabaster tinted by

the daybreak flush extened from the curtains

you hear a whispered word then the sleeper

sinks again into repose like death and a

single black tress curves over her neck and

nestles on her bosom 
at this moment a faint creaking sound is

heard and all is still again the door slowly

opens and a face leering with a hideous

smile appears in the dusky interval a cautious

catlike footstep and a form advances

to the maidens bed and the light of the taper

reveals a strange picture




				 
				
				
			






			 
				
				 
 

				






that face with short stiff hair and shaggy

beard alike scarlet red in hue the bleared

eyes and the thick lips laughing the same

brutal scorn upon the sleeping woman that

almost giant form clad in the costume of a

mexican ranchero wide pantaloons ornamented

with glittering buttons green jacket

tawdry with gilt trappings and a stout leather

belt girdling two pistols and a long and quivering

knife 
who is this ruffian that dares intrude upon

the sanctity of a maidens bed chamber 
he sweeps aside the curtains bends his

head his breath pollutes the cheeks of the

slumbering isabel 
you see his thick lips parting in a brutal

grin his huge arms extended his colorless

eyeballsso white and bleared and glossy

fire with a gloating intensity 
the white breast the round neck the warm

countenance of isabel lay open to that gaze

of pollution 
he turns to the doorlistens all is

still the hand of the ruffin plays upon the

hilt of his knife but it is for a moment only

extending his brawny arms he grasps her

form and tears her halfnaked from her virgin

bed 
in a moment the room is vacant the outlines

of that pure womans form is still traced

upon the pillow the lamp yet burns on the

table but the room is silent and tenantless 
but did you see that unconscious form

bound in the ruffians arms did youeven

as he left the roomsee that face turned

over his shoulder the long black hair

showering down his back as the eyes unclosed

with a frightened glance 
there is a gasping halfsuppressed cry in

the corridor withouta hurried footstep and

all is still again 
when isabel thus rudely torn from her

bed unclosed her eyes she beheld the dark

green hangings of the eastern room on the

ground floor 
pinioned in the ruffians arm she gazed


around with the frightened glance of one suddenly

aroused from a dreamless slumber and

beheld that wide room crowded by the forms

of armed men attired in the halfbandit halfsoldier

costume of mexican rancheroes a

solitary ruffian stood alone in the centre of

the group his slender form and bearded face

revealed by the light of the blazing pine knot

which he raised above his head with his right

hand 
that light flashed strongly over the green

jackets and tinsel trappings of the soldiers

and played upon the blade of every long and

quivering knife 
for a moment the maiden trembled with

fright as she beheld that swarty face scowling

all around her but that moment passed

the warm blood coursed over her face and

bosom with a sudden movement she flung

herself from the ruffians arms and confronted

the assassin band 
why this outrage she cried dashing

the clustering hair aside from her face and

fixing the glance of an indignant eye upon

the foremost of the group she looked very

beautiful that halfclad woman whose clasped

arms were dressed upon her tumultuous

bosom with her unbound hair streaming over

her white shoulders 
there was dead stillness and then a deep

groan from the dark recesses of the room 
the bandits parted and in the interval

made by their movement to either side appeared

an old man whose slender form was

clad in plain black while his strongly marked

features were rendered ghastly by a livid

paleness 
my father you here bound too and in

these ruffians arms 
the old man jacob grywin replied by

wringing his pinioned arms and uttering a

low deep moan 
my sons my sons why did i suffer them

to depart for san antonio my men too

all are gone and here i am would to god

i had only faithful ewen here




				 
				
				
			






			 
				
				 
 

				






he spoke of the overseer of his plantation

that brave hardy fellow who had left for san

antonio in company with his sons 
a hoarse laugh echoed round the chamber

at once jocob looked up and isabel turned

as though a viper had bit her heel 
your faithful ewen is here said the

voice of the ruffian who had torn isabel from

her bed 
there he stood dressed like the rancheroes

his stiff red hair and matted red beard

imparting new hideousness to his bleared eyes

and grinning lips 
the old man was speechless you see

isabella survey the ruffian from head to foot

while her face changes color now red as daybreak

now white as a shroud 
aye its meewen mcgregor red

ewen or whatever the boys choose to call

me i
am
here this band of trusty spirits

are mine i have come here at dead of night

to secure this traitor to the republic of mexico

we had hard riding to reach the place in

timea great many weary miles since nine

oclock somewhat in a hurry you know

for tomorrow morning your sons will be home

byetheby i left john and harry at sunset

they were quite well 
he drew his knife and playfully felt its

sharp edge 
my god can this be real moaned the

old man 
i tell you it can be and it is 
but you were my friendmy overseer

you followed my fortunes into the wilderness

ewen a traitor no no i will not believe

it 
the ruffian advanced confronted the old man

and glowered upon him with his bloodshot

eyes 
you talk of traitor
you
 the broken

bank director of philadelphia who turned


traitor
to the trust of some thousand widows

and orphans and then fled the city seeking

refuge for his guilty wealth in the prairie of

texas sixty miles from san antonio oh


jacob pshaw man i know you you

forget that i was your clerk 
it was a hard blow the old man felt it to

the heart 
as for isabel she stood like a thing of marble

frightfully pale her clasped hands pressed

nervously against her bared bosom 
you here too my pretty one the ruffian

sneered as he turned upon her in my

power you were once the
aristocratic
lady

of the aristocratic mansion in philadelphia


now
 
a movement was observable among the

soldiers and a form advanced into the glare of

the pine torch 
it was a young man slenderly made with

an olive cheek and long flowing curls of jet

black hair his beard and moustache all

curling and as soft as silk imparted a chivalric

appearance to his delicately cut features

his eyes were very large and bright and

withal intensely black their expression was

peculiar indefinable 
a closefitting uniform of dark green relieved

by a single row of gold buttons displayed

the elegant proportions of his form 
isabel he whispered we did not anticipate

this moment when last we met 
he bowed low before the halfclad maiden

and looked on her with upraised eyes 
don antonio was all that trembled from

the lips of the wondering girl 
it was a strange group the central figures

that handsome soldier with the olive cheek

and smooth silken beard the beautiful girl

whose flowing hair but faintly concealed the

fluttering of her bosom the light held overhead

by the brigand soldier the livid face of

the father and the brutal sneer of ewen distinctly

revealed by its glarethe encircling

rancheroes and the dark background of the

curtained walls 
a strange group now shown in red light

again darkened by the shadows as they went

and came 
don antonio drew near the maiden





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



extending an elegent cloak of rich purple velvet

edged with golden fringe gently he

flung it over her shoulders and as her bosom

was veiled beneath its solds he whispered


 
isabel for the sake of the holy trinity

let me see you
alone
alone for one moment

only 
he spoke in english somewhat fluently

though with a decided spanish accent there

seemed a more eloquent language so thought

isabel in his large lustrous eyes 
come she whispered and led the way

from the room 
you must be in a hurry i tell ye they

heard the coarse tones of red ewen for we

have got a heap of justice to do and little

time to do it in 
up the stairway she led him and scarce

knowing whither she went entered the bedchamber

from which she had been torn only

a moment past 
there by the light of the taper which

stood upon the table near the bed there in

silence and gloom of that virgin retreat they

confronted each other 
isabel very pale with her white arms appearing

from the folds of the purple cloak her

naked feet touching the soft matting on the

floor don antonio with his brow uncovered

his head drooped his upturned eyes resting

on the halfshrouded form before him 
speak she gasped this outrage 
the words died on her tongue 
in a voice tremulous with delicate modulations

don antonio spoke still maintaining

that resyectful bearing 
you are in danger isabel last thursday

at our nearest military post sixty miles

away this ruffian ewen appeared denounced

your father to the colonel of our regiment

stated the unprotected situation of prairie

eden and offered to lead a picked squadron

to the place 
ah i remember he was absent two days


last week but what charge could the traitor

prefer against my father 
you know isabel that our government

have decreed a new invasion of the rebellious

province of texas our armies even now

are encamped on its southern border ewen

stated that your fathers house was often used

as a rendezvous for the rebel texans nay

that his sons his laborers his very slaves

within a few days depart to join the army of

some texan general at san antonio i fear

me it will go very hard with your father

this ewen is as cruel as brutal as traitors

always are 
but you can save us you whom we

knew in our prosperous days 
a meaning smile crossed the face of the

mexican 
i am only a subordinate officer red

ewen met us after sunset at a designated

point and took command of this squadron of

horse 
and my father 
may be put to death within an hour red

ewen seems to have some secret purpose of

revenge 
isabel sank to the floor not prostrate but

kneeling with her white arms upraised her

eyes streaming tears 
my god it seems like a hideous dream 
the mexican raised his hand to his eyes

was it to hide a tear 
but you can save us don antonio and

with a bound she passed the distance between

them and knelt at his feet you
will
save

us i see how it isyou only accompanied

this expedition to do us service o remember

how my fathers home in philadelphia was

once your home remember 
how the peerless isabel scorned the suit

of don antonio marin the attache of the

mexican legation at washington is it so

miss grywin 
was that a sneer upon his darkred lip

what meant that sudden lighting up of his

large eyes




				 
				
				
			






			 
				
				 
 

				






isabel trembled shuddered as she beheld

the sudden change of the mexicans face in

an instant that expression was gone he was

composed and respectful again 
o you would not be so ungenerous as to

revive that memory now i was but young

vain frivolous then i refused your suit it is

true my father to that refusal added some

words at once needless and bitter but now

we are in danger you will save us 
rise lady on one condition i will

peril my life to save you 
he raised her gently from the floor she

stood there erect as a queen upon her throne

around her neck waved her glossy black hair

you could see her young bosom pant and

writhe beneath the velvet cloak 
one condition she murmured and waited

for him to speak 
he spoke it with his eyes with his parting

lips with that sudden gaze which devoured

every outline every tint of her voluptuous

form from the head framed in the

black hair to the feet as white as marble 
she shrank back as though a bullet had

pierced her brain 
no no no you cannot be so base

as to think it 
isabel the whisper husky with passion

fell on her ear like a torrent of boiling

lead the case is plain i love youhave

loved you for years be mine and i will

sacrifice my rank my honor to serve you 
be mineshe echoed his words and

looked at him with a dumb wandering stare 
he beckoned her to the window 
look yonder 
she looked but would not believe her eyes

there rolled the prairie silvered by the rising

moon but she saw it not nor dwelt on

the solemn beauty of that boundless sky 
but a pine torch flung its ruddy glow over

the sward in front of the mansion that

light revealed the bandit soldiers the form of

red ewen in their midst there with his


neck bared his brow uncovered his face livid

as death stood her father 
there was a rope about his neck and that

rope swung loosely as it was tied to the oaken

branch above his head 
isabel beheld that hideous picture and sunk

like a crushed flower on the floor all sense

all consciousness were gone her white

arms relieved by the purple cloak dropped

by her side a glimpse of her pulseless bosom

gleamed over the golden edge of the garment

she lay like a dead woman her face like

marble her eyes wide open and glassy 
don antonio bore her to the bed and

stamped his foot thrice upon the floor a burly

ranchero appeared in the shadows of the

doorway it was red ewen in his hunters

garb 
wine slave search the cellars of the

old heretic and bring me a goblet of his rich

old wine 
this it must be confessed did not look

very much like respecting red ewen as the


superior officer
 
a few brief moments passedthe lady

still lay swooningand ewen the newlyfledged

rachero appeared with a massy golden

cup in his hand its glittering flowers contrasting

with the purple gleam of the liquid

trembling against the brim 
begone and mark ye
don
ewen

commander

of the squadron of mexican horse



do as i have commanded you begone 
the ranchero was gone don antonio was

alone with the unconscious woman what

means that scowl glooming over his handsome

face what means that hand lifted

over the gobletthat white powder pouring

from the paper in his fingers down into the

red current of the wine 
he gazed upon her his black eyes dilating

until they assumed a tigerlike glare so

helpless she lay beside him unconscious upon

her virgin bed with her dark hair wound

about her round white throat so like an





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



image of purity carved out of parian marble

with her glassy eyes turned towards heaven 
ah that was a coward act don antonio

to sweep the cloak aside and gaze with

gloating eyes upon the shrine of purityher

white and pulseless bosom ah that was a

traitors kiss that kiss from your burning lips

pressed upon her lips as cold as clay 
awake isabel my love i will save your

father 
his arm is around her waisthe presses

his bearded cheek against her cheek of velvet

softness and his lips pressed with passion

quiver against hers 
dreamily she unclosed her eyes and all

unconscious as she was drank from the goblet

which he held to her lips 
then her countenance glowed a blush like

living flame overspread her face her eyes

seemed no fire with liquid light 
where am i she gasped ah these

forms that glide to and fro in the dance these

fountains that murmur drowsily in mine

ears these gardens where a thousand lights

break from the shadowy trees over groves of

flowers 
her mind wanders and don antonio

smiled until his white teeth shone like ivory

under his black moustache 
the maiden rose spread forth her arms

like one struggling with a fatal sleep the

cloak fell and that form which combined

all that is beautiful in the physical and intellectual

organization of woman glowed in the

light form its trembling veil the drugged

potion was in her veinsyou can see it in the

voluptuous dimness of her eyes in the deeper

red of her lips 
even in this moment her soul shone out

from the clouds which had begun to darken

it 
ah where am i don antonio is it

you my fatheroh save him such were

her incoherent words 
don antonio started to his feet and at once

there gleamed from his eyes a strange light


there broke over his lips a stranger smile 
listen isabelbut two minutes of consciousness

of volition are yours in those

brief minutes i will lay your fate before you

aye and you shall read it two years

ago in the city of washington you scorned

my suit scorned your father heaped insult

upon your scorn my time has come

unless you become minemine at this hour

mine without priest or vow i swear to leave

your father to his fate 
mercy 
that fate death by the rope at the hands

of the ruffian red ewen your brothers will

return by morning light but it will be too late

we will then be far on our way but your

father will swing on that tree before the door

of his home 
you cannot be human not one drop of

pity not one 
reflect i do not force your wishes

you may swoon but unless you say yes to

my proposal your father shall hang and you

will not feel my kiss upon your lips say

yes and i will save him i that love you

with a love that is merciless in its every pulsation

i that adore you so much that i will

wreck every moment of your existence unless

you consent to become mine 
he shook his small white hands above his

head in the impulse of the fiery thought

which corded every muscle of his face and

gleamed like an undying vengeance from his

eyes 
one moment only remains thinki

will not speak to you until that moment and

consciousness are gone 
he turned away into the darker corner of

the room 
standing near the bed her form erect her

black hair tossing on her brow she felt that

the drugged potion was working in her veins

and that the next minute would fire her heart

with the mad dream of voluptuous passion 
her mind was very clearlike a lake en





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



shrined in the hollow of a mountain top its

glassy surface unruffled by a breeze but the

next moment 
slowly she glided to the window again

that sightthe livid face the dangling rope

with a creeping shudder she turned away

and turned her eyes upon the tempter 
in the dim corner he stood his finger pressed

against his lip his dark eyes blazing upon

her even through the gloom 
pity her now all good angels 
she felt the blood rushing to her brain

she heard gentle voices singing songs as in

the air she saw soft masses of light playing

over the uncovered forms of dancing women

like a sleep that dream born of opium

possessed her nerves her brain her soul 
yes 
it is morning and a faint ray of light trembles

through the darkness of the corridor

let us await in this silence and gloom with

our eyes fixed upon the massive panels of

yonder door that door leads into the bedchamber

of isabel 
forth from that door as the rising sun

streams through the window glides a wild

figure with unbound hair and livid blue circles

under each glassy eye the bosom is

bare and maked the feetyou see the air

play with the scanty robebut the feet are

cold the bosom white pulseless like the frozen

breast of a dead woman 
is it a ghost can it be the warm and

blooming isabel who last night said the evening

prayer with her father and went singing to

her wirgin bed 


along the corridor she glides one word

quivering from her lipsfather 
no replythe mansion is deathly still 
down the stairs and out upon the porch

the rolling prairie with the sun rising over

its waves of grass and flowersthe blue sky

and the grouping clouds who hang above the

path of day catching his freshest kiss upon

their bosoms 
she saw it allfelt on her cold cheek the

fresh breath of morning but the soldiers

where are they ewendon antonio

where they are gone all gone she is left

alone with her father how can she meet his

gaze she thebut pity her good angels

and weep fiends as you behold your darkest

work 
father she cried and listened noreply

she turned from the sunrise and shuddered

as she anticipated the withering gaze of

that parent whose life she had bought with

hersoul 
she turned and saw her father he did

not frown upon his child nor smile there

was a cold calm look upon his face and his

eyes were steadily turned to the rising sun

but those eyes were glassy that face was discolored

for the father dangled in the air as

the rope was about his neck and the treebranch

quivered with his weight 
two forms were seen towards the east

she saw them as they came rapidly on and

greeted them with a shout of horrible laughter


 
welcome johnharry welcome home












chapter iv

the rancho salado







 
 






				 
				
				
			







			 
				
				 
 

				







there came an order from santa anna

stating that as these texans who had

honorably capitulated at mier were pirates

and robbers every tenth man of them

should





texan mss






it
was a dreary rancho of dark stone one

story in height with a stunted and withered

tree before its low and narrow door to the

east extended a wall of stone of the same hue

as that which formed the rancho only that a

few miserable shrubs struggled into light between

the solid blocks 
around that rancho all was one monotonous

waste of sand as far as the eye could

see and far in the east and west rose a range

of barren hills their rugged peaks rushing

into the sunset sky 
a view more desolate cannot be imagined

the rancho with its wall encircling a space

some hundred feet square was the only object

that met the eye in all that waste of dreary

sand and barren cliffs 
a single black cloud with rugged edges

spread over the tops of the western hills and

veiled as in a pall the lust beams of the dying

sun 
the air was hot stifling like the atmosphere

of a furnace it was the close of a

long and sultry day a flock of vultures were

perched upon the flat roof of the rancho

folding their sluggish wings as they seemed

to scent the smell of human blood 


before the door waited a halfrobber form

dressed in the tawdry green jacket and wide

trowsers of a mexican ranchero there were

pistols in his belt as leaning on his rusty mus

ket he cast his sleepy eyes to the setting

sun 
this lonely farm house or military post

call it what you will was situated in the

heart of mexico some hundred and fifty miles

south of the city of saltillo 
it was called the
rancho salado
 
within the court yard hidden by the impenetrable

wall a scene of peculiar interest

was in progress 
one hundred and seventy men chained in

couples their faces worn by famine and rendered

more hideous by the uncombed hair

and unshaven beard were grouped in a circle

their shrunken forms wasted by long days

and nights of thirst hunger and cold were

miserably clad in rags that fluttered to every

breeze 
in the centre of that circle was a massive

log and on that log an earthen vessel resembling

an antique funeral urn 
around these gaunt and faminestricken

forms was grouped a solid mass of mexican

steel at least three hundred soldiers attired

in green gazed on the chained men and raised

thelr musquets in the light of the setting

sun 
near yonder post the colonel of the detachment

a man of some thirtyfive years with a

dark olive face rests his arms against the

wall and turns his face away from the group





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



of prisoners this colonel has seen much

bloodshed and washed his blade on many a

texan field but now the tears stream freely

down his battleworn cheeks 
his officers young men and aged clad in

the gay mexican array gaze on the group

with wet eyes and quivering lips 
only one manyou see him slightly advanced

from the othersgazes upon the miserable

men with an aspect cold stony and

unpitying as death he is by no means an

unhandsome man for his beard is dark and

silken his hair glossy as a ravens pinion

his eyes full and lustrous 
he gazes apon the prisoners and the urn

and smiles until his teeth glare out from beneath

his moustache 
have we seen this man before 
the colonel advances as if choking down

his emotions he surveys the group and speaks

the priest by his side with dark brown and

rotund face translates his words into english


 
texans taken prisoners in an attack

made by you last christmas day on the

town of mier situated in the republic of

mexico you were brought some months since

to this rancho on your way to the city of

mexico you rose on the guard shot and

stabbed our sentinels and escaped after

days and nights of starvation and misery

worse than death you were retaken and

again you stand upon the scene of your mad

adventures texans by the order of don

antonio lopez de santa anua president of

the republic you are declared pirates and

robbers out of the pale of all international

law and stripped of all the rights of civilized

communities you are worthy of death

in the most sudden and ignominious form

but
in mercy
there was a convulsive movement

in the brave colonels throat which

wellnigh choked his voicein mercy i

say the president decrees that only one out

of every ten men shall be put to death 
he pausedand as though embarrassed by his


emotions played for a moment with the hilt

of his sword you see his officers stand

weeping near yonder wall and still with his

uncovered brow glowing in the light of the

setting sun stands that solitary and unpitying

cavalier with the dark hair and silken beard 
within that urn are deposited one hundred

and seventy beans seventeen black

ones among one hundred and fiftythree white

ones you will advance two by two and

draw each of you from the urn a single

bean if it is white you liveblack and

you die before sunset 
he turned away and the texans looked

silently in each others faces the unpitying

officerdid we ever see him beforeadvanced

passed through the prisoners and

took his seat on the log the priest handed

him a large blank book with pen and ink

this man was to enter the names of the living

and the deadas one by one they raised

the deathurn 
the air seemed to grow more sultry and

a strange silence descended upon the scene 
while the colonel and his officers were

moved to tearswhile even the rough soldiers

wept as they grasped their muskets

while that solitary unpitying man seated by

the urn looked coolly in the faces of the

texans they advanced two by two and chained

as they were inserted every man his hand

in the urn of death 
the first couplea man with sinewy form

and hair like snow and a man whose robust

figure indicated the wreck of herculean

strength 
at once they inserted their hands there

was a pause sobs were heard from the

group of mexican officers the register of

the deadso let us c ll the handsome officer

who seated on the log holds the book

of life and deathcoolly watched their movements

as though he had wagered a few dollars

on the result 
the old man drew a black bean




				 
				
				
			






			 
				
				 
 

				






death cried the register as he entered

his name on the book 
the old man whose features covered with

a snowwhite beard belied not one trace of

emotion whispered to his comrade 
should you ever return to texasi have

a daughteryou will bear to her my blessing

 
the herculean texan could not reply 
the manacles were loosened and the aged

man calmly stepped aside and stood erect on

the spot allotted to the doomed 
the horrible lottery went on in solemn silence

only broken by the sobs of the mexican

officersthe sneering laugh of the gallant

register who cried life or death

as though he was but marking the result of a

game of cards 
you may believe me that it was a sad

scene the sun never shone on a sight more

harrowing two by two they advanced these

heroes of mier who had mothers wives sisters

in the sunny land which they had bought

with their bloodthe beautiful land of texas 
not a groan from their lipsno not even

a sigh half naked unshaven and miserable

to look upon they came two by two to

the urn raised their faces in the sunset glare

and calmly took their places in the ranks of

life and death 
at last when the setting sun trembled on

the hilltop his red disc seen between the

cliff and the black cloud above there stood

sixteen men side by side on the spot assigned

to the condemned 
two texans only remained to fulfill the

conditions of the lottery there was but one

black bean in the urn and one of the twain

must die 
every eye was fixed upon them as they advanced


 
you see the tallest of the two a man of

sinewy form and aquiline face his broad

chest quivers beneath its covering of rags

ah unmanly spectaclethere are tears in

his large dark eyes 


why these tearsfor himself look at

the prisoner chained to his wrist and answer 
a very boy scarce sixteen with a girlish

form and smooth beardless cheek and

strangely lustrous blue eyes his face too

is worn by famine but there is a calm almost

holy light upon his soft features he looks

up into the face of the robust man and a sad

smile wreathes his lips 
fear not for me brotherill not play the

coward he says in a distinct firm tone 
fear not for
you
 and a hoarse groan

swelled the broad chest of the bearded texan

by i swear i do not fear for you you

shall not die nono that would be a little

too hard for the devil himself to think

hark ye harrythis in a hasty whisper

let me draw first the black bean is smaller

than the whitei can tell one from the other

by the touch i will 
the younger brother replied by thrusting

his hand into the urn 
there was one groan thrilling from every

lip in the courtyard the chivalric register

alone regarded the scene with a pleasant

smile and politely asked 
the color of the bean 

black
 cried the heroic boy turning

with a triumphant smile to his brother that

brother wrung his manacled hands and bowed

his head upon his breastit would have made

your blood run cold to see that strong man

weeping like a child 
name added the polite register smoothing

his silken moustache 

harry grywin
 replied the boy in a

firm tone 
the register started his face became pale

almost livid for an instant but recovering his

composure he coolly entered the name murmuring

harry grywin
death
 
this scene did not pass unobserved no

the doomed sixteen men saw it the mexican

officers shuddered as they beheld the black

bean in the hands of the girlish boy and ten





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



texans stepped from the ranks of the living

exclaiming incoherently 
i will take his placeby you cannot

kill that boybehold us we will die

in his stead 
but a voice deeper than all rung through

the court yard 
who talks of dying for harry grywin

when his brother i john grywin am here

look you he is but a childyou cannot put

him to death the foolish boy saw the bean

before he drew ithe denied himself the

shadow of a chance take me 
his tall form swelled in every fibre as he

towered erect the red glow of the setting sun

lighting up his aquiline features framed in

masses of hair and beard as black as jet 
take look you my mexican friends

i do not owe you much love i have cut and

carved you in battle as i would cut and carve

again had i free field and a good knife but

now i will stoop to you kneel to you come

priest tell it to them in spanish only so that

you will let me die in place of harry here

for as theres a god he looks the very image

of his mother 
the tones of that strong man his tears his

gestures had a language which went like a

fiery arrow to every heart 
this must not go on shouted the veteran

colonel rushing forwardthese men shall

not die and the boy holy trinity it would

be sacrilege to kill him 
the register sprang upon the log with his

fine form and handsome face revealed against

the sunset sky 
fall back colonel i command here he

said quietly waving his hand 
but your excellencydon antonio marin

 
at that name john grywin looked up and

surveyed the handsome form of the register

don antonio marin it was horrible to remark

the strange pallor of the texans face

the iron impression of his bearded lips 


don antonio marin he exclaimedoh

sir i am glad to know you 
separate these heretics shouted don antonio

with rapid utterance and violent gestures

quick i say the sun is setting and

it must be over before he is below the horizon

soldiers advance by platoons to your

dutypresentfire 
it was done like a lightning flash harry

was separated from the brothers side hurried

away into the ranks of the doomed there

was a report like separate claps of thunder

mingling in one awful peal and a mass of

blueish smoke rolled over the scene 
groans prayers lowmuttered curses mingling

in chorus do you see the smokeshroud

roll aside for a moment that old man on

his knees lifting his hands in prayer the

red blaze pours into his face and the smokecloud

rolls over them all peal on peal volley

on volley and now the whole courtyard is

veiled in smoke 
an awful silence 
the smoke slowly rolls aside ah those

mangled forms with here and there a limb

quivering with the last impulse of life a hand

raised but to fall stiff and frozen to the

ground a face uplifted with the blood pouring

over the hollow stomach which but a moment

ago were eyes 
there on the log beside the fatal urn

stands don antonio marin gazing coolly on

the bloody heap of dying and dead while his

curling hair and silked beard and smooth

olive cheek glow richly in the sun as he

lights a cigareto and emits volumes of perfumed

smoke from his vermillion lips 
near him john grywin frozen into a dead

stupor his hands clasped and his vacant gaze

rolling from the mangled forms to the soldiers

and last of all resting on that prominent

figure 
don antonio standing on the log and puffing

his cigareto with infinite relish his face

and beard encircled by clouds of fragrant

smokeas the sun dips below the horizon

and night rushes on the scene














the lady of vera cruz







 
 






				 
				
				
			







			 
				
				 
 

				







it was on the ninth of march that

winfield scott landed with americans

on the very coast where cortes with

 spaniards had landed three centuries

ago





texan mss






the
white arm of a woman thrust through

the staples of that massive door with the

iron pressed against the delicate flesh supplied

the place of a bolt and held the panels

firm 
it was a fearful thing to behold that arm

quivering and almost crushed by the sturdy

blows which fell against the opposite side of

the door and yet the arm was firm pressed

by the heavy panels of the door against the

rusted staples into which it was inserted it

trembled like a withered reed the small fingers

straightened with intense agony the

skin was rent by the overwhelming pressure

but still it was therethe only bolt of the

ironbound door 
the scene was a narrow room with a

lofty ceiling and floor of dark grey stone

from the tapestry on either side marked with

the figures the portraits of grave hidalgos

encircled by heavy frames and manifesting

in their steel armor their bearded

faces and helmetted brows distinct traces of

the age of chivalry frowned gloomily on that

brave and lonely woman 
the only light which imparted its faint


glow to the place wrs a small lamp uplifted in

the left arm of the maiden her right arm

was inserted in the place of a bolt for

some two or three feet around her the rays of

the lamp fell warm and glaring beyond that

circle of light in which she stood all was

gloom and the extreme end of the apartment

was enveloped in thick darkness 
for a single moment all is still as death

while this dead silence broods on the place

while the thick darkness hangs over its distant

extreme and the faces of warrior spaniards

frown from the tapestried walls we will gaze

upon this brave yet delicate girl 
her halfnaked form is pressed quiveringly

against the dark mahogany panels that massive

door supplies a black background to the

lithe outlines of her shape and strongly relieves

the alabaster whiteness of her shoulders

her feet her arms and bosom 
a solitary garment hastily gathered around

her waist falls in careless and loosening folds

to the floor her young bosom heaves freely

in the light you may trace the agitation

which swells her heart to bursting in the almost

imperceptible quivering of the nostril

you may read it in that silent compression of

the warm red lips it brightens wildly in

those dark eyes dilating in their sockets and

gleaming a steady lustre from the shadow of

the long black lashes 
a single vein swoollen as though it was

about to burst shoots upward from her brows

and mars the pale beauty of her forehead 
her hairthere is not a breath to stir it into





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



motionfalls in one mass of glossy blackness

over her right shoulder 
her form is neither tall nor masculine

she trembles before us one of that diminutive

shapes which supply in grace and lightness

what they lack in height and majesty a

slender form yet blooming freshly in the full

bosom warm almost voluptuous in the flowing

outline of the broad shoulders and rounded

arms beautiful in the stainless whiteness

of her small feet and hands wild and flashing

with the light of large deep eyes that seem to

burn as they dilate altogether one of those

small yet impetuous daughters of the south

who resemble the tigers in their stealthy tread

and not in each movement only but also in

their love and their revenge 
what means this picture framed by the

darkmahogany panels of the massive door

this solitary room gloomy with tapestry and

moth eaten portraits floored with stone and

with a single doorway at either extreme

the white arm thrust through the iron staples

the enlarging eye and bared bosom throbbing

with deathlike emotion 
wherefore with a picture so mysterious

and yet so beautiful in its very danger and

mystery commence this new in this legend

of the golden and bloody land 
from this dim room faintly illumined by

the lamp that quivers in the uplifted arm of

the maiden we will go forth on our pilgrimage

through the dusky battlegods and sepulceres

of mexico it is in the home that the

bolt of war descends in its most terrible glare

and reaps its most precious harvest of blood

in the home we will raise the curtain and

lay bare the awful theatre of revenge over

whose bloodstained bounds glide the phantoms

of human passion 
hark this silence so deathlike is broken

by the sound of repeated blows hurled against

the opposite side of the door deep voices

are heard in the interval between each

blow 


open sister your brother demands entrance

into this chamber 
open isora it is your betrothed that

calls 
one quick and intense glance toward yonder

door almost hidden in the gloomit is

the door of her bed chamber and the girl silently

withdrew her arm the blood starts

from the white skin and a livid streak deforms

its alabaster loveliness 
the door swings slowly into the room

two figures are disclosed halfadvanced from

the shadows of the doorway a monk and a

soldier the monk with his pale face sunken

on his folded arms the soldier with an unsheathed

sword gleaming in the light 
sister said the monk in a voice at once

sad and reproachful this dishonor is too

great to be borne an americanaye a

heretic a spy is discovered at dead of night

in the streets of vera cruz he is pursued

by mexicans his accursed life is in their

power and lo a mexican girl the orphan

child of don antonio marin gives shelter to

this spya shelter in the home of her dead

father shelter in the secresy of her bedchamber

 
where is he hissed the soldier as his

bearded face and tinselled form were disclosed

in the light this sword shall anticipate

the vengeance of the gibbet 
the halfnaked girl stood like a thing of

marble the light raised in her uplifted arm 
silently she gazed with her large eyes on

her brother and her betrothed 
that brother a man of some thirty years

whose pale and beardless face stood out distinctly

from the long and flowing robe of his

order there was a silent scorn about his

colorless lip an agony of shame in the

glance of his eyes as they dilated in his deathlike

face 
by his side his drawn sword grasped in a

firm hand stood the soldier quivering with

silent rage clad in a green uniform spangled

with ornaments of every shape and device





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



his w de trowsers glittering with gold lace a

pistol in his belt and his small eyes twinkling

from a mass of dark hair and beard he

presented an effective contrast to the pale

face and sombre attire of the monk 
brother replied the girl in a tone that

was firm in its very tremulousness it is

false there is no spy here yonder is my

bedchamber search it 
her red lip curled in quiet scorn and with

her bloodstained arm she silently lifted her

loosened robe upon her bosom blushing like

a beautiful sunset in that action of maidenly

modesty 
but we saw him enter vociferated the

soldier we traced him along the corridor

aye to this very room he is here and

his life is ours 
you should have seen the girl turn the silent

scorn of her large dark eyes upon his

face 
it is don augustin then who enters like

a robber at dead of night the bed chamber of

his betrothed my brother may hold himself

excused he is but a monk and knows but

little of the respect due a woman a maiden

but you the soldier the cavalier the gallant

o chivalric don augustin 
her lip curling her head thrown back she

flashed the light of her dark eyes upon his

lowering visage 
his head drooped the point of his sword

touched the floor the scorn of that halfclad

and lonely maiden cut him to the very

quick 
meanwhile the monk with his arms folded

his head sunkenregarded his sister with a silent

look long searching and full of

agony 
we traced the spy to this apartment he

said in a voice that scarcely rose above a

whisper there is but one door besides

this through which we have entered the

other door is yonder and it leads into your

bed chamber sister we will reach that

room 


what means that head turned hurriedly

over her shoulder that glance toward the

distant door does the maiden fear the

search 
her face was very pale as she turned once

more and with flashing eyes besought her

brother not to profane with his midnight intrusion

the sanctity of her chamber and her

couch 
the monk stood silent and confusedashamed

to advance and unwilling to recede

but the tinselled don augustin sprang forward

sword in hand toward the door of her

bedroom 
with one sudden and impetuous bound

that slender girl darted before him and shield

ed the door with her outspread arms she

shone very beautiful in the action again the

dark robe fell and with the darker hair relieved

the soft loveliness of her virgin

breast 
back it is not for
you
to enter here 
and as the flash of her indignant eyes met

his cowering gaze he started back ashamed

of the meanness of his purpose 
brother advance it is for you to commit

this outrage alone 
slowly ds though every step was clogged

with a leaden weight the brother advanced

and laid his hands upon the dark panels of

the door 
why do you hesitate said the maiden

as her bosom throbbed in long and deep pulsations

are you afraid 
her words were brave but pallor of her

face the unnatural brightness of her eyes

told the story of her intense agony 
it was a picture to live upon the memory

forever 
the room so dark and the dusks faces

frowning from the tapestried wall these three

figures near the doorwaythe maiden with

her bared bosom and uplifted light shining

down upon her pale face the monk with

one foot advanced one hand laid upon the

panels the soldier with his head bowed his





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



sword lowered gazing with upturned eyes

upon the sister and the brother his chest

heaving with suspense 
the strong light upon these figures and the

gloom all aroundit was a most impressive

scene and a silence like the grave added

awe to that moment of anxious hesitatation


 
i will enter said the monk 
he pushed open the door and disappeared

at the same moment the sister sank on her

knees while a groan of intense agony swelled

her bosom yes with her hair falling

over her face she covered her eyes with one

hand and the other grasping the light drooped

by her side 
don augustin like a statue of surprise

stood as if chained to the floor gazing in

mute horror upon the kneeling woman he

was a soldier and had done brave work in

many a battle done hideous butchery in many

a memorable texan field but now the damps

of fear started from his cold forehead he

was afraid 
he listened to the sound of footsteps within

that chamber he heard a deeptoned ejaculation

and then all was dead silence the

sword of don augustin shook as the tremor

of his arm agitated the gilded hilt 
thou art false isora he whispered as

his parting lips disclosed his white teeth firmly

set together 
she did not raise her head cowering on

the floor her robe her hair mingled in wild

disorder she pressed her left hand against her

forehead and laid her head against the panels

of her chamber door 
and thus they kept their fearful watch

the maiden and her plighted husband she

the orphan child of an honored race of old

castile now trembling in fear and shame as

her brother searched her chamber he a

brave and cruel soldier quivering in fear of

that dishonor which seemed glaring in his

face from the sombre panelling of the fatal

door 


within the chamber 
we will follow the footsteps of the monk 
he entered and the sanctity of his sisters

bed room lay open to his gaze it was a cool

and quiet place hung with faint crimson curtains

a single window opening on a garden

to the north a solitary light placed in a niche

before an image of the virgin mary the perfume

of flowers imparted a delicious sweetness

to the sultry air beautiful in their rainbow

hues they were clustered in a vase near

the window in one corner stood the maids

couch yet bearing the outlines of her shape

on its silken pillows 
the monk advancedtrembling he took

the light and searched the room there was

no one there all was silent and deserted

that light fell over the bed revealed the

folds of the silken hangings the flowers by

the window and the virgin smiling from the

recess but it did not disclose the form of a

living thing 
the spy is not here he gasped and approached

the window he cannot have escaped

in this way the leap were certain

death 
he looked down into the garden where

flowers and shrubbery were grouped in a

wilderness of perfume and then through the

interval of the vines which clustered round

the window frame he saw the mild sad light

of the stars 
this is strange he murmured as he approached

the image of the virgin as i live

he entered this room and yet i can discern no

trace of his footsteps 
as he spoke a dim distant murmuring

sound like the tramp of ten thousand men on

a sandy shore came through the thick walls

of that ancient mansion the monk groaned

as he bit his lips in impotent rage 

they
come the heretics the invaders 
but what is the sight that fixes the glance

of his burning eyes the statue of the virgin

has been moved from its place in the recess

the monk remembers the oldtime





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



legends of his paternal mansion and at a glance

discovers the entrance to that secret stairway

leading from the bedchamber to the

roof 
ah he groaned with an oath in pure

castilian i have tracked the wolf to his

lair 
it was the work of second to spring forward

through that holy image open wide the narrow

door and glide into the darkness of the

secret stairway 
ten steps upwardsteps of stone built in

the thickness of the wallsand he stood upon

the flat roof amid the battlemented walls of

the mansion with the light of the stars upon

his brow 
a hand was laid upon his arm the stern

stern gripe of these iron fingers forced an involuntary

murmur of pain 
fiercely the monk turned his lip compressed

his brow scowlingit was his impulse to

hurl the intruder from the roof 
but the scowl passed from his brow ere he

drew another breath his lips parted the indignant

flash of his eye was succeeded by a

vacant stare 


he felt his blood curdle in his veins for

there in the pale light of the stars rose a tall

form swelled to gigantic proportions by the

gloom and a voice low and deep which thrilled

to the inmost heart of the monk whisperee

these words 
remember the
rancho saldo
 and look

yonder 
while that deathlike clasp tightened on his

arm the monk recognized the voice and

trembled like a frightened child before the

spectre of some goblin story 
quivering with a fear more terrible to behold

because its source is unknown to us the

monk beheld the sight which spread before

him 
it was a sight to swell the heart with a

vague yet overwhelming sense of the sublime


 
let us stand beside him on the roof of the

mansion which overlooks the main square of

the town and gaze upon the vision which he

beheld and feel its dusk sublimity rush thro

the eyesight to our souls














the landing at vera cruz







 
 






				 
				
				
			







			 
				
				 
 

				






winfield scott in the footsteps of cortes




texan mss






above
 the sky of night that dome of deep

and tranquil blue shining with the gleam of

the stars beneath the town of vera cruz

its roofs and towers rising indistinctly in the

gloom with the grand plaza right before us

encircled by noble structures and the sandy

shore stretching as far as eye can see to the

norte and south in dreary barrenness 
yonder to the northeast above the waves

glooms the castle of san juan de ulloa a

dark pile rising sullenly into night with the

mexican flag waving from its loftiest tower

toward the east the waves break in low murmurs

against the barren isle of sacrificios barren

to the sight yet bearing in its bosom mysterious

chambers stored with relics of six

hundred years ago 
beyond the castle and the fort spreads the

illimitable waste of the trackless gulf a world

of waves reaching out into the vague night

until it kisses the world of sky 
landward we gaze beyond the waste of

sand and the dark line of forest and hill a

colossal mass white as snow towers serenely

into the western sky 
that white mass rising in its lone magnificence

from the distant horizon its sublime

summit rushing proudly into heaven is the

peak of orizaba the altar of this glorious


temple which has the waste of sand and forest

and the sweep of the vast ocean for its floor

the sky for its dome the stars of god for its

sacrificial lights 
it is one of those scenes which glide into

the soul and fill it with a sublimity that has no

speech no word escapes our lips no sudden

ejaculation give vent to our awe here we

gaze the ocean is before us the gloomy castle

rising from its wavesthere and orizaba

glares like the ghost of past ages from the

western sky 
for a moment we turn our gaze from the

ocean and the mount to the city that sleeps

before us that home of plague nestling on

the low and sandy shore called vera cruz 
the mansion on whose roof we stand lies

east of the plaza yonder to the west with

its front to the eastern sky towers the cathedral

a noble structure whose dome and cross

are lost to view in a vague mass of blackness

what means this blackness that seems to undulate

like a cloud as we gaze upon it that

dome is black with vultureslook upon

the cross rising high in the serene air crouches

the sentinel of the band an omen of death

and blood nestling upon the emblem of jesus

and peace 
he will have a brave feast ere many days

that gory vulture resting tonight on the highest

cross of vera cruz 
there on the south of the square rises another

church or mass of churches swarming

with buzzards black even to the cross with

those birds of death




				 
				
				
			






			 
				
				 
 

				






ere a month has passed those churches

will be blasted into ruins the bodies of the

dead will darken their altars the vulture pick

his ghastly meal even in their most holy

places 
before us on the east of the square we behold

the national palace surmounted by the

tricolored flag of mexico 
and from this plaza shadowed in deep

night by those noble forms of architectural

grandeur extend the smoothpebbled streets

of vera cruz overhung with balconied windows

gay with manycolored awnings and

rendered uniform by a wide extent of level

roofs 
it is is indeed a beautiful town far out

on the sealike a gleam from italy or asia

the voyager beholds it with its towers and

cupolas rising from the waste of sand while

far above smiles the serene orizaba in the

calm evening hour when the white peak blushes

in the sun and the smile of the dying day is

upon wave castle and shore these balconies

are crowded with beautiful women whose

white fingers gleam through the intervals of

flowers while their gracefully gathered mantle

cannot altogether hide the glance of their

dark eyes the red warmth of their lips the

the passionate heaving of their veiled bosoms


 
and yet from this town so sublime with

its distant orizaba so beautiful with its warm

southern women its tropical flowers so grand

with tower and dome the plague every year

hurls two thousand people to their graves

one third of its houses are ravaged every

year by that pestilence which wings its deadliest

dart where the verdure is freshest the

sky most serene the flowers most beautiful 
tonight another a deadlier plague threatens

vera cruz 
what mean these batteries erected everywhere

about the city hemming its houses in

a wall of latent flame wherever you gaze

not an inch of ground beyond the walls of

the town but is commanded by some deadly


engine of war to the north you behold

fort conception to the left fort santiago

one mile from the city with a belt of water

between san juan de ulloa all formidable

with cannon all prepared for the hurricane

of hattle 
what foreign enemy will dare assail the

impregnable castle the city of the gulf defended

by a wall of steel by the invisible barrier

of the plague 
hark there is a strange sound to the

souththat waste of sand is black with shadowy

formsthe tread of ten thousand men

fills the air with a sound like the first moaning

of a thunder storm 
gaze upon the channel which glides between

the castle and the isle of sacrificios 
even as the light breeze crisps the waters

into tiny ripples we behold glooming through

the night the dark forms of ships of war

some white with sails some sending the

smoke of their steamengines into the starlit

sky the night is dark we may not trace

distinctly the shapes of these vessels nor

count their cannon nor estimate the awful

power of their death machinery but they are

there gently undulating upon the smooth waters

their decks black with warriors the banner

of the stars waving over all as if to flash

back unto heaven the smile of the cloudless

sky 
what means the banner of the stars floating

over the gulf of mexico 
look there are barges upon the waters

gliding as noiselessly as any gondola of venice

that bears the lover to his mistresss smile

gliding from the ships to the shore and bear

ing armed men to the plaguesmitten shore

of vera cruz 
does not the scene rivet your gazefill

your heart 
you see those boats extended in the form

of a crescent approach the sands while the

water breaks in foam around their prows

the bayonets twinkle like fireffies through the

darkness a vague murmur stealing over the





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



waves swells along the shore like the hushed

whispers of ten thousand men 
they come on those deathboats bearing

many a true heart to the hideous grave of the

pestilence they grate upon the pebbly beach

there is a flag waving through the gloom and

the forms of armed men start into view far

along that drear that barren shore 
where is now the thunder of san juan de

ulloa lookthat slight elevation of sand

commands the shore a single cannon planted

there would hurl a thousand men back into

the waves and redden with blood the ripples

as they gurgled over these mangled falls 
is there not one truehearted mexican

only one to place the cannon and fling the

lighted match to his fatal work not one 
for there is a doom upon the land the hardy

children of the north are here the soldiers

of the new crusade throng the waters

and the shore at least twelve thousand strong

and there is not one mexican to meet them

on the beach with the warm welcome of a

warriors steel 
at sunset you should have beheld the scene

for if it is impressive now at sunset it was

most beautiful 
it was a calm afternoon on the ninth of

march the glow of sunset was upon

the waveless waters of the mexican gulf

upon the city of vera cruz with its roofs

and towers centred on the sandy shore upon

the dark castle glowing to the north and

those beams so vivid in their tropical glare

hung in a baptism of life around the faroff

peak of
orizbaa
 
there in that sweet sad calm of the

evening breeze which makes the stranger

in a foreign land dream of home a strange

sight was seen by the light of the setting

sun 
the roofs of vera cruz were black with

people the soldier sprung to the battlement

and held his breath as he gazed from

yonder castle the gay group of mexican

generals looked forth upon the tranquil wa


ters every eye was centred upon the channel

between the castle and sacrificios and

every heart beat quicker at the splendid panorama

warmed by the sunset rays 
for the huge princeton came gliding over

the waves urged swiftly on by her tremendous

machinery with the smoke curling over

her masts and melting into the serene gold

of the upper sky the dark form the white

sails of the other vessels swept black and

glittering in the centre she seemed that

fearful princeton renowned for the bloody

tragedy once enacted on her decks like the

head of a huge serpent trailing its sinuous

way over the calm waters 
as the fleet approached the isle of sacrificios

the armed men crowded on the decks

their weapons flashing in back the glare of

the sun cast their gaze to the west and saw

the desolate shore spreading wide and dreary

as the waves broke over its sands the city

crowded on its every roof with the men the

women the mothers and daughters of vera

cruz are therethe vessels of other nations

anchored in the harbor their masts alive with

silent spectators and in the distance
orizaba

seemed to woo them on
orizaba
 that soon

would see them hurled by hundreds into the

plaguepit or crushed in bloody heaps upon

the battle field 
in the shrouds of the steamer
massachusetts


at this moment of intense expectation

stands a man of some sixty years his form

unbent from its stern majesty by the toil of

battle or the frost of age clad in a costume

magnificent in its severe simplicity blue

relieved by golda broad chest heaves beneath

that uniform a kingly form supports

that warrior head his brow was bared you

could see the gray hairs curling round it the

sunset glow upon those firm features every

line glowing with a warrior soul 
over his head and around him throwing

his expressive form distinctly into view

waves in slow undulations the banner of the

stars




				 
				
				
			






			 
				
				 
 

				






his eye brightening as it expands roves

over the scene and he remembers that bloody

field fought years ago within the thunder of

niarara and looks forward with a quickening

pulse to these words which history will soon

write in characters of light

winfield

scott in the footsteps of cortes

 
with twelve thousand men their lives

their honor hanging on his fiat this man of

niagara sees the american army approach

the land of mexico 
harkthe thunder of a signal cannon

breaks the silence a volume of blue cloud

sweeps over the form of scott 
that is the signal gun 
and parting from the vessels sides as they

swing at anchor near the isle a line of barges

crowded with soldiers sweep toward the shore

it is a beautiful thing to see them come

spread forth in the form of a crescent which

flings the glitter of four thousand bayonets

over the waves 
on towards the sandsnearer and nearer

in sight of the city and the fort the object

of the gaze of thousands these veterans of

monterey these men of louisiana and kentucy

approach the hostile shore 
that form standing erect in the foremost

barge with the light playing upon the muscular

chest the uniform of blue glittering with

gold the deep eye gleaming beneath the

waving plumes as white as snow 
over all he towers the american flag

grasped in one hand the unsheathed sword

flashing in the other behind him the fleet

before him the shore far above the white

altar orizaba 
look upon that banner and read in its

bloodstained folds the single word monterey

 gaze upon that waving plume it

gleamed like a beacon through the three days

fight of the mountain city it waves above

the brow of
worth
 whose eye flashes again

as he prepares to spring from the barge and

plant the banner upon the sands of mexico 
silence reign only broken by the sweep of


the oars now hearts are beating impetuously

beneath their warrior covering the setting

sun shines over compressed lips and woven

brows a moment of fearful suspense 
nearer to the shore glides the toremost

barge 
you see worth lift at once his sword and

banner with one hurried glance he surveys

the hostile beachthe city five miles distant

the harbor white with sails and then casting

his face so chivalric in its ripe manhood to

the glow of the setting sun he springs upon

the shore 
in silence he plants the banner staff upon

the sands and uncovers his brow 
ten thousand eyes behold the picture 
that solitary soldier standing alone upon

the beach the waves curling at his feet the

banner of the continent waving over his head

the golden sands relieve his form the evening

breeze lifts the banner into light 
then and not till then the ominous silence

is broken by a thunder shout it is the heartwarm

cheer of our thousand brave men look

upon them as they come with one impulse

they plunge into the waves and dash onward

lifting their glittering arms into the light

they cannot wait until the barges grate the

sand but springing into the water midbreast

deep they hurry forward and encircle with

a guard of hearts and steel the noble form of

worth 
the last gleam of the setting sun disclosed

that barren shore clouded by the firm array

of six thousand men with the gloomy outlines

of cannon and mortar seen disitnctly

even amid the flash of these long belts of dazzling

steel 
darkness gathers on the ocean and the

shore one by one the prominent points of

the picture went out in the gloom first the

shore faded and the soldiers in their beautiful

array became a vague mass of moving

blackness their presence known by their

thunder tread alone the domes of the city





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



glittered for a moment and then were dark

the huge castle sank into the bosom of night

the ocean reached forth its waves and melted

through the dusky air into the distant horizon


 
and when the shadow was upon the ocean

and the shore like a mantle of tangible darkness

still in the west orizaba lifted its white

altar into heaven and while all was black below

the last rays of the departing day hung

round its glossy pinnacle like a smile from

god 
now it is dark night illumined only by the

stars while the american legions are hurrying

from the battle ships to the shore and

extending in silent and terrible arry around

the slumbering city our souls are hurried by

the stern emotions of the hour back into the

bosom of the dead ages 
three hundred years ago and the same

lone orizaba that towers serenely now

flashing its calm scorn upon the petty broils

of man smiling calmly on whether he

marches to battle in glittering array or sinks

disfigured and horrible into the loathsome pit

of the plaguethat same grizaba beheld a

far different scene 
then the great woods sent forth their arms

of foliage and flowers even to the ocean shore

the palm grew near the waters a straight

column towering into upper air with a coronal

of broad leaves and luscious fruit around

its brow the cypress too that stern monarch

of dead centuries rose here with all

manner of rainbow flowers blooming round

its massive trunk and vines of various beauty

hanging about its branches then the desert

sand where san juan de ulloa glooms was a

fair green isle sacrificios yonder was the

temple isle of a strange and mysterious religion

upon its sands among the gay glory

of the tropical vegetation the horrible altars

rose dripping with the warm blood of the human

sacrifice beneath its surface were

chambers reared in the barbarous yet im


pressive architecture of the people whose

name has for thousands of years been lost to

human lips 
wonderful chambers were those hidden

beneath the sand gloomy with images of the

devil god and burrowing far into the caverns

beneath the ocean waves 
then it is of the time three hundred years

ago we speak a wondrous people dwelt in

this land amid gorgeous cities or in the silence

of the beautiful vallies their dusky

faces glowing with the same passions that fill

our bosoms now the fury of war the avaricious

lust of traffic the magnetic tenderness

of love 
yes beside this shore many a great lord

clad in garments that were woven with feathers

of rainbow dyes and dazzling with ornaments

of solid gold strode proudly along

followed by the innumerable column of his

halfnaked and dusky warriors yes beneath

yonder cypress in those days that are now

almost forgotten crouched the darkcheeked

but impetuous daughter of the south looking

with her large deep eyes upon the brown

child that slept upon her bosom yes upon

yonder isle the chaunt of prayer was heard

the altar smoke arose the yell of the victim

forced to the altar his heart torn from his

living bodyshrieked in horrible cadence

upon the still air and died far along upon

the waves 
the ruler of this land dwelt in a valley

some hundred of miles to the west in a tranquil

valley of blossoms whose gardens and

lakes were guarded by volcanic mountains 
at once the high priest of the awful religion

and the emperor of the people he was

called the sad warrior or in the aztec

language
montezuma
 
wherefore called the sad or doomed warrior

it is a strange story and i will speak

it in few words 
the religion of this vast people which

raised its altars in every city and sent its





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



sacrificial flames into the sky from every

mountain comprised the worship of two deities

like all the religions or rather forms of religion in the world it adored two godsa

god of blood a god of peace 
the god of blood in some lands demanded

the offerings of an lnquisition pledged to

do the works of hell on earth on the victims

of persesution slain without mercy on the

battle fields of bigotry 
in mexico this god of blood demanded

merely the palpitating heart of a solitary victim

who was stretched upon the altar stone

amid the gaze of thousands and torn to death

with his livid brow crowned with blossoms

this victim was slain on stated occasions of

solemn ceremonial not in the gloomy hall of

an inquisitions dungeon nor in the molocksacrifice

of a genevan stake 
in all lands of the world the god of peace

received the worship of the purest hearts

the brutal man swayed by the bigots lust

into hellish frenzy loved him not but his

name was written in serene skies in waveless

lakes in all that was tender and beautiful

in the world as much in the bared beauty of

a stainless womans bosom as in the lone majesty

of the mountain top smiling in the last

gleam of an unclouded sun 
after ages of darkness this god was clearly

written in the biblehe shone an image

of time joined to eternity in the serene

jesus
 
in the land of mexico three hundred years

ago this godonly revealed to the aztec


people in the language of external nature or

the voiceless eloquence of the heartwas

seen in the blossoms in the cloudless skies

in all the tenderness and sanctity that whispers

in the syllable
home
 
it their traditions which called him
quetzalcoatt


it was taught that he had lived in

the mexican land some thousand years before

that he had been banished in his

golden reign of peace and driven from this

very shore by the god of blood 
but a glorious hope lived in their traditions

that he would return and bless the land again

nnd reign the messiah of the heart 
in this hope lived montezuma but priest

and king as he was of a despotic government

and a barbarous religion the hope soon became

to him a nightmare fear he looked for

the return of the good god with trembling

and saw the coming of the blessed age with

the terror of selfconvicted guilt 
he was doomed to destruction from his

birth by prophecy and the coming of the

blessed quetzalcoatt was to ripen his doom

into judgement therefore from his birth

he was called montezuma or the doomed

man 
did the messiah come 
yes but not the god peace nor the apostle

of the god of peace but a stern messiah

whose crucifix was the hilt of his sword

whose black banner bore a red csoss with

the words
in this sign we conquer
 
a single picture from the life of this messiah

of blood














three hundred years ago







 
 






				 
				
				
			







			 
				
				 
 

				







in order to estimate the present we must

look upon the past i will tell you said

the veteran a story of the days of old in

order that you may understand that which

i have to state ofthe ninth of march







texan mss






upon
the sandy shore a white tent arose

shadowed by the deepgreen leaves of a cypress

tree 
around that tent were grouped a band of

warriors attired in linked steel their bearded

faces surmounted by iron helmets an iron

sword in each sinewy hand a deep murmur

thrilled through the group and the last gleam

of the fading light revealed the various passions

anger despair hopecontending for

the mastery in every warriors face 
while they surrounded the tent flinging

their mailed hands in fierce gesticulations in

the air the light of sunset mellowed the waveless

ocean and the waters melted without a

sound upon the pebbled shore 
around was the glowing panorama of fruit

and flowers from the thickly clustered foliage

the purple grape the fragrant fig the

golden orange were seen while over all

arose the melancholy palm so lone in its majesty

the strong cypress so big in every

inch of its rugged bark with the history of

ast years 


and over all far away to the west the

cloudless blue of the evening sky was broken

by a colossal mass white as sunless

snow 
it was a wild and yet a beautiful scene

that group of warriors beared from the

mouth to the throat and clad in mail of iron

clustered about the white tent their warhorses

also ironclad standing near the

golded sand stretching far to the north and

south to the east the ocean vast calm and

trackless in the west the serene peak of

orizaba 
attracted by the sound of those earnest

voices speaking deeply in pure castilian

we enter the group and start back wondering

and dumb as we behold the two figures that

form the centre of the circle 
a man of thirtythree years clad in glittering

steel armor his form at once agile

and athletic is seated there upon a rock his

helmet laid aside his hands clasping that

sword whose hilt pierces the sand 
a face high and bold in the forehead

thoughtful almost sad with the light of those

eyes so unnaturally large and dark firm in

the silent compression of the bearded lip

altogether the face of an enthusiast and a

warrior were it not for the air of practical

energy which invests the face we should say

at the first glance that we beheld in that

mailclad man a dreamer cased in armor instead

of a cowl 
while all are moved by the tempest of





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



passion he alone is calm yes while the monk

at the right surveys the group and clasps his

crucifix in prayer while the splendid warrior

on the left whose battlesteel shines with

drops of gold seizes his sword and with a

scornful lip confronts the group this man

with the uncovered brow is firm and colds a

marble 
the ships which bore us to this accursed

land
you
have destroyed shouted an athletic

man whose dogged features halfhidden

in his hair and beard announce a reckless

nature by the holy trinity we are here

in a heathen land at the mercy of the savages

our bones will bleach upon their altars before

many days 
and a chorus of fierce ejaculations disturbs

the silence of the evening hour 
pity us mother of god we shall never

see castile again 
never our ships torn to pieces rot

beneath yonder wave the madness of this

man hath undone us all 
conquer a nation like this a nation of

millions ruled by a great king it is madness

to think it 
the man with the uncovered brow heard

it all with his large eyes fixed upon the sand

not a word passed his lips 
back shouted the splendid knight who

with drawd sword stood by him dare you

menace the captain 
for the love of god my children be calm

besought the priest lifting into light the holy

cross 
by this time you have doubtless discovered

that the name of the priest was
olmedo


the splendid knight
alvarado
these

mailed forms the adventurous spaniards who

landed a few days since on this unknown

shore the central figure so calm while all

around is storm
hernan cortes
 
he has destroyed their ships they cannot

go backthe ocean is between them and

home before them the wonderous land of

montezuma swarming with its millions of


people and glorious with its unmeasured

stores of gold this man cortes not long

ago an obscure planter of cuba has sworn

with this little band to conquer the empire of

montezuma 
it is indeed madness 
at last he lifts his eyes and surveys the angry

group you see the madness of his

dream in the deep flush which reddens his

cheek in the unnatural glare of his eye

that flush that glare says more to the warriors

than a thousand words for they tell us

that the soul of this man is up within him

that alone he will accomplish this deed if

not a single arm moves with him 
he rises lays his left hand upon the banner

staffabove him the gonfalon of black velvet

with its red cross and with his right he

raises the blade or his sword slowly over his

head 
be it so his deep indignant voice is

heard exclaim you all desert me i will

go alone 
silence the genius flashing from this

mans eyes begins its work upon every heart

silence hesitation suspense 
there is a land to conquerit is yonder

he pointed to the setting sunthere is

gold to winit is there there are millions

of heathen whom we can convert to the true

cross they too are there you are afraid

to conquer convert or winafraidyou

desert me it is a crime that i have destroyed

your ships i am guilty i confess it

take your way where you will as for me

with this sword in my hand this banner over

my head i will cry to god and his saints and

go forth to conquer alone 
the silence deepens heads are drooped

upraised arms sink with their swords with

wondering eyes they gaze upon the form of

cortes 
alvardo so splendid in his knightly array

advances silently to his side 
not
alone
for i am with you




				 
				
				
			






			 
				
				 
 

				






and i exclaims the priest olmed advancing

from the other side 
and i exclaims a soft low musical

voice in castilian broken by a strange accent

it echoes from the tent and pierces

every heart 
two white arms are wound around the

neck of cortes and pillowed on his right

shoulder is seen a warm face framed in flowing

hair and lighted by large eyes that burn

with the religion the love of a true woman 
who is this beautiful woman from whose

brown cheeks glows the ripeness of fiery

blood so queenly is her form so voluptuous

in every out lineher young limbs trembling

beneath a robe of spotless whiteso

like a passionate woman in her ripe lips so

like a spirit in her large eloquent eyes 
every spaniard knows her at a glance the

child of the heathen people he has forsaken

home and altar for the christian she has

linked her fate with cortes saying to him in

the beautiful language of the hebrew maiden

to naomiwherever thou goest i will go


thy people shall be my peoplethy god my

god 
now spreading forth her arms she looks

upon the stern soldiers with that glance so

sublime with womans faith and utters the

broken words 
i too will go 
had you turned your eyes for a moment

from this group and then looked again you

would have seen the sand crowded qy kneeling

men their eyes gleaming with the frenzy

of enthnsiasm their swords lifted towards the

holy banner their voices joining in the shout

mexico and montezumal lead us on

we will conquer with you cortes or with you

cortes we will die 
orizaba glowed in the setting sun and the

indian maiden mariana held over the dark

hair of cortes a crown of orange blossoms

with a single bloodred flower in the centre

as the night sank over the scene she fluttered

it gently in the air and it sank like a good

omen on his brow













the avenger of a threefold wrong







 
 






				 
				
				
			







			 
				
				 
 

				







whenever he tried to pray one word written

in letters of fire glared between him

and god
remorse






texam mss





remember
the
rancho salado
and look

yonder 
that voice we say curdled the blood of

the monk 
there beside him on the rooftop of the

old mansion of vera cruz rose a sombre

figure which in the dim light of the stars

resembled a phantom rather than a man 
it was some moments ere the monk could

gather nerve to raise his eyes and look upon

the shadowy form at first he saw only a

tall figure attired in grey with a rifle in his

hand a pale face encircled by masses of

dark hair with a long black beard clothing

the lower part of the visage and descending

to the broad chest 
then as he saw more clearly he beheld

that white forehead the dark eyebrows the

aquiline nose firm mouthcurving with a

smile that was almost satanticand a rounded

chin appearing from masses of black

beard a frock coat of grey hues edged on

the skirts with dark fur and girded by a belt

of black leather displayed the sinewy proportions

of the stranger over his white brow

arose a cap of dark fur with a single

long and slender feather quivering in its

front 


you tremble
father pedro
the voice

sounded like a deathknell to the monk

and yet there is no reason to fear come

while the stars gleam above us while san

juan frowns yonder and the tramp of ten

thousand heretics resound from the sandy

beach come i say sit by me on the battlements

and let me tell you a storyan amusing

story as there is a god do not wonder

that i speak spanish with such a glib tongue

i learned the language in an excellent

grammar schoolrather rough it may be

but still excellentthe castleprison of perote

 
father pedro sank backward on the battlement

his hands hanging motionless by his

side he trembled as with an ague chill

but then the air was so cold 
taking his seat beside the monk and resting

one arm on his rifle the stranger began

his story 
did you ever father pedro in your

priestly wanderings behold a picture like

this a lonely rancho centered in a valley

of barren hills and illumined on every stone

with the dusky glow of a clouded sunset in

the courtyard of that rancho a handsome soldier

standing on a log shrieks to his bloodhounds

and bids them put to death seventeen

men rebel texans who await their fate near

the walla boy mark ye a smoothfaced

girlish boy standing in their midst there

is a crash father pedro a smoke and horrible

groans rise from that heap of palpitating

forms which writhe struggle and die even





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



on the spot where a moment since stood

seventeen living men not a mexican eye

but is wet with tears not a soldier but pities

the miserable men who are butchered thus

in cold blood yes there is one cold

relentless unpitying while all are weeping

round him stands that handsome officer don

antonio marin 
the monk shuddered 
but near the gallant officer is seen the

brother of the smoothcheeked boy waiting

until the smoke clears away so that he may

recognize the mangled form of harry grywin

that brother is a strong man father

pedro yet he bites his lip until the blood

comesweeps o every one of his tears is

worth a mexicans life and all the while the

handsome officer stands smiling at his agony

come man you are dullwhy dont you

laugh when the smoke clears away john

the elder brother advances searches for his

girlish brothers body there are sixteen

carcasses on the sod but harrys is not

there 
you may see the head of the monk fall

slowly on his breast 
the scene changes to saltillo a beautiful

city some hundred miles and more from the

rancho salado two months have clapsed

since the handsome officer halloed his bloodhounds

to the slaughter it is a festival day in

saltillo the church lines the street with her

banners her crosses her glittering robes extending

in gorgeous procession above all

above the points of encircling bayonets shines

the host the body and blood of jesus

shrined in a golden cup but who comes

here along the streetsthis ghastly figure

clad in rags the face thinned by famine the

blue eyes hollow and ghastly it is a texan

aye the very boy who two months since was

doomed shot in the rancho salado he escaped

wandered among the mountains for

two months and now rushes into the ranks

of the procession screaming for bread for

water for you see he is maddened by


thirst and hunger like a hunted deer that

can drag its bloody trail no longer he turns to

his hunters and beseeches mercy bread

water behold the mercy which is given to

him a file of soldiers separate from the

procession at the command of their leader

a ghastly figure is kneeling in the centre of

the plaza the cathedral before him the host

gleaming above his head presentfire

there is a quivering mass of flesh and blood

on the stones of the street and the officer advances

contemplates the form of his victim

or to put it in plainer words don antonio

marin looks quietly and with his most winning

smile upon the mangled corse of that

boy of sixteen girlish harry grywin 
the monk lifted his eyes and muttered the

name of the holy trinity 
the voice of the stranger echoes clear and

deep through the silence of the nightit

pierces the soul of father pedro yet he dare

not gaze upon the eyes nor look upon the face

of the unknown man unknown 
look yonder monk 
so careless so conversational was the tone

of the strangers voice that the monk raised

his eyes 
yonder father pedro not upon the

starlit sky nor upon the dreary shore of sand

not yet the wooded hills but yonder to

the north west what is this that we behold

a texan home reared on an island knoll

some sixty miles from san antonio amid a

grove of oaks venerable with their waving

festoons of silver moss is it not beautiful

the fountain bubbling in the centre of the

grove the rich masses of sua and shade chasing

each other over the sod the world of

prairie and sky spreading around and above

that home of prairie eden a father and his

three children dwell there in the wilderness

the free canopy of god above them and the

breath of god hlowing freshly over the prairie

into their dear home of the blossoming

desert but mark ye father pedro the





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



brothers are called away to san antonio called

with the laborers and slaves of the plantation

to defend the frontiers of texas from mexican

outrage they are gone only a few brief

hours warned by a supernatural messenger

they leave their men encamped and hasten

home they do return homebehold them

after journeying all night approach the island

grave in the dimness of the daybreak john

is mounted on his black horse harry on his

ambling bay and youll remember john was

a muscular man sure as death with his rifle

and harry a mere boy with such laughing

blue eyes that went right into his rude brothers

heart 
they are coming homealonefor they

have left their soldiers on the prairie thirty

miles away they are in sight of prairie

eden their horses have fallen but still they

hurry on how beautifully the morning sun

shines over the mansion with the oaks grouped

around it and the white moss quivering in

every breath of air coming home they

hear the sound of the fountain see the porch

ascend the knoll with a merry hurrah for

john begins to think that his presentiment

was falsethe words of that awful messenger

a lie but what is the sight that meets their

eyes as they reach the porch where is the

father to welcome the children home where

the sister to press her kiss upon her brothers

lips lookha ha the father hangs to

the tree before his own door his dead face

gilded by the morning sunthe sister crouched

in the porch a mad a
dishonored woman


 
the monk fell on his kneesmercy

for the sake of the holy trinity no more

no more 
but the brother even john bends over his

lost sister his namethe author of this

double wrong the doer of this devils work

hark that voice from the white lips of the

wrecked woman
don antonio marin
 
as he hissed the last words through his

compressed teeththe monk crouching all the


while before himthe stranger dashed his

rifle on the flat roof and beat his forehead

with his clenched hands the groan which

came from his lips was not human it resemled

the howls of a dying tiger 
you will confess father pedro that john

grywin and don antonio marin have a long

account to settle whenever they may chance

to meet you admit that even if john should

discover don antonio under the cowl of a

monk his chivalric name transformed into

father pedro that it would be a very amuing

thing for the said john to stab the good

father at dead of night and pitch his bloody

carcass over the battlements into the streets of

vera cruz this would be amusing i say

but very very far from just let me picture

a little piece of justice for you after the

lapse of long years john grywin finds don

antonio under the cowl of a monk his only

care the charge of a beautiful and orphaned

sister tho monk loves that sister adores

her even as john adored his sister yes the

monk wishes her to marry the chivalric don

augustin bestow her wealth on a convent

and live happily for long years encircled

by blooming children at this crisis of

her destiny john grywin comes to vera

cruz finds entrance into the home of the sister

and night after night setting by her side

with her soft hands within his own tells her

the movingsomewhat melancholystory of

his life and wins her heart forever in this

story mark you he leaves the names a blank

does not tell the voluptuous isora that the

name of the assassin and ravisher is don antonio

marin well after all his plans are

laid john grywin being still in pursuit of

justice brings the threads of destiny together

on the night of the th of march look

yonder father pedro behold the barren

isle of sacrificios there is the sepulchres

of the aztec race my bridal bed is waiting

for me now your sister is pure at this hour

when morning dawns she will repose in my





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



arms in yonder bridal bed sacrificedher

honor purity all offered up to the memory of

my sister come monk unfrock yourself

i want your cowl it will serve me as a disguise

to pass the guard or stayha ha

isora shall wear the monkish gown and i

will assume the handsome uniform of don

augustin 
the monk father pedro otherwise called

don antonio marin lay prostrate on the roof

prostrate and helpless as though a palsy

had possessed his once vigorous limbs his

eyes were rivetted on the face of the stranger

he suffered him to strip the gown from his

form saw him wind it about his form and for

a moment all was silence 
slowly heavily the monk raised himself

into a sitting posture the form of the stranger

was half lost to view in the aperture of

the stairway leading from the roof to the room

of isora 
that face framed in its dark hair and long

beard glared from its large eyes full in the

face of the monk 
one word before we part your turn

will come it is not yet time do you remember

walking some three months since just

before you assumed the cowl in the alameda

of mexico your whilehaired father on your

arm it was a beautiful evening the valley

of mexico glowed with its groves and spires

in living light while far above rose the volcanic

mountains sending their smoke like incenseclouds

into the evening sky and you

with your whitehaired father were walking

amid the blaze of rank and beauty which

floated along the alameda of the gay city

a bullet from an unknown source pierced

your fathers brain he fell at your feet his

white hairs bathed in blood whence came

that bullet you never could guess in remorse

for your crimes you deemed a vengeance

dealt by a supernatural hands and immediately

assumed the cowl ha ha it is

indeed amusingthat bullet came from the


rifle of the escaped prisoner john grywin

 
oh god my poor father 
thus one by one i will sweep your family

down to death first your father falls

tonight isora sinks in the embrace of pollution

last of all your turn will come yours

father pedro otherwise called don antonio

marin hero of the rancho salado hero of

the mass at saltillo hero of prairie eden 
he was gone 
it was some moments before the monk recovered

his consciousness he tottered to his

feet and the mild light of the stars shone over

his shaven face and revealed his broad forehead

and wildlyglaring eyes there was a

damp like death upon his brow he wiped it

away with his chilled hands but the cold

dross started forth again and bathed his clammy

flesh 
then gazing toward the ocean don antonio

contemplated with a shudder the dark

history of his life 
i thought it was but revenge when i dishonored

isabel and slew her brotherrevenge

for the scorn which the proud girl flung in my

teeth long years ago in her philadelphian

home but now my father murdered my

sister on the verge of dishonori learn at

last that the devil who urged me to my revenge

brings home to me the poison which i

distilled for others my sister she is pure

what harm has she done 
but isabel ho ho sir monk thou hast

forgotten the beautiful and sinless girl of the

prairie 
i will save her so aid me god and all

his saints 
with that trembling vow upon his lips he

rushed down the stairway and found himself

in the darkness of isoras chamber 
the door he tried it with the nervous

force of despair but it is fastened and the

echo of voices came through its thick panels







				 
				
				
			






			 
				
				 
 

				






he listenedthe voice of isora don

augustin and the avenger mingling in chorus

again the monk driven to frenzy tried

the door but his attempt was hopeless he

sank back upon the bed of isora and a hand


cold clammy was laid upon his own thrilling

his veins as with the touch of the dead 
fear not don antonie said a soft mild

voice for i isabel of prairie eden am with

you













the threads of destiny







 
 






				 
				
				
			







			 
				
				 
 

				







it matters not how brave how ferocious the

criminal may be when in the act of his

crime let but destiny weave its tnreads

about him and the hero of vengeance came

and lo your criminal is but a child in

strength and an ldiot in intellect





texan mss






at
the same moment on the opposite side of

the door in the gloomy chamber frowning

with the portaits of castilian hidalgos don

augustin maddened by blind rage stood prepared

to plunge his sword into the heart of

his unknown enemy 
that enemy stood near the door his arms

folded over his rifle while a smile of cold

contempt played over his lips 
kneeling by his side the light held in her

extended armit seemed frozen into marble

lsora wound the dark robe around her breast

and looked with vacant terror into the face of

her betrothed husband her bosom now

stilled like death now heaving suddenly under

the dark robe her rich olive chek chilled

into a dull lifeless hue her eyes gleamng

a light at once vivid and unnaturalall

betokened the violence of the emotions which

threatened her reason with utter annihilation


 
indeed she seemed sinking fast into a stupor

a dull apathy worse than death 
calm and sneering john grywinhis cold


smile rendered sinister aye satanic by the

upward direction of the lightlooked into the

face of don augustin as though he would

read his soul through his small and restless

eyes 
heretic never do you leave this room

alive yon have poisoned the mind of this

pure lady
pure
ha ha he laughed bitterly

you have outraged the honor of a

mexican comei am hungry for your

blood 
you talk like a hero bravo i really

begin to admire you don augustin 
such was the reply of john grywin de

livered in a quiet tone his arms still folded

about his rifle not a muscle of his face

movednot one sign of agitation was visible

in his tall form or bold white forehead 
dog coward i spit on you 
don augustin grew grotesquely eloquent 
i say you are afraid to measure swords

with me i call you poltroomand scorn

you 
you are ungentlemanly don augustin

quietly remarked the texan now i have

but one word to say and that is to request the

loan of your coat for a few hours i wish to

pass the guard at the mole and to pass in

your uniform you understand will you

strip 
there was a sneering consciousness of superior

power not only physical but intellectual

force in his look and tone and yet don

augustin was not a man at all to be despised







				 
				
				
			






			 
				
				 
 

				






with an impetuous bound he hurled the

point of his sword at the unprotected beast of

the texan 
it was a deadly lunge a moment of quivering

suspense 
then occurred a sudden and sublime sacrifice


 
this woman isora kneeling on the floor

the light extended in her palsied hand was

only clad in the solitary robe which trembled

on her heart yet she did not remember

this nor call to mind that modesty which is the

most sudden instinct of a pure woman 
there was a wilder instinct in her breast

call it fascination magnetism love and it

taught her that the sharp point was hurled

against the texans heart that she must save

him at every hazard 
quick as the tigress maddened by the

slaughter of her young she darted from the

floor raised the light in one hand and with

the other flung the robe from her breast and

hurled it upon the point of don augustins

sword 
then panting and glowingher form brave

as the form of sinless eve she flung back her

head and with the eye flashing the nostril

quivering she entangled the sword and with

a sudden movement hurled it and her robe

together on the floor 
the light was still in her uplifted left arm

and in its beams she stood revealed glowing

from head to foot on bosom cheek and brow

with the fiery impulse of that heroic deed 
don augustin started back and shrieked

her name coupled with a word too foul for

manhood to repeat 
maddened as the texan was by the wrongs

which had goaded him for years until his

very life became one brooding revenge he felt

his blood boil at that unmanly word look

you see his clubbed rifle circle his head you

see don augustin hurled senseless to the

floor 
then the beautiful girl roused once more

into her womans modesty as the impulse of


her action passed away blushed in every

pore tossed her dark hair on her form it fell

it waved it streamed over her bosom and

down her limbs and sinking on her knees

wept aloud 
methinks i see some sensualist of the pulpit

or the press read this passage and as his

foul imagination ineapable of anything but

that which is born of the kennel of his own

heart covers this heroic deed with the atmosphere

of his sensualism and gravely groans

immoral damnable 
i write this scene first of all because it is

true and next as a defiance to those poor

earth worms who crawl over all that is pure

and beautiful in the earth of god leaving

their slime wherever they writhe along 
i paint this woman with the bared form

and look upon her unveiled loveliness blooming

in such roseate hues flowing in such waving

outlines as a type of all that is pure in

the wide earth an incarnation of that love

which hallows a mans soul when he thinks

of a mother or a sister a love stainless as the

snowflake trembling from the parent cloud

and bathed as its floats in the ray of a setting

sun 
but the sensualist whether he whines in the

pulpit or croaks in the press or howls in the

brothel what message has the statue or the

picture or the woodpainting which embodies

a womans unveiled form what message has

this purity enshrined for him nothing but

earth for he is of the earth earthy nothing

but filth for he is born of filthy nothing

but lust for the impulses of his heart are like

the bubble on the dead sea stagnant and

pestilent excretions fomenting on the very

dregs of rottenness and decay 
such a sensualist have i seen talk with

prim utterance in his demure journal about

immoral books quoting garbled passages to

prove his point claiming sympathy from the


moral
public because he had slimed over

some sentence or chapter that was pure before

he touched it and all the while the





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



victim of this
chaste
editors perjurya brokenhearted

and wronged woman lay mad and

howling in the cell of an insane hospital

this was a moral editor of a moral newspaper


 
an expression of mingled character passed

over the texans face as he gazed upon the

kneeling girl his large eye dilated and

flashed with unusual light while a smile played

over his lip veiled in her luxuriant hair

the snowy skin gleaming through the interval

of her tresses she still grasped the light as

her tears fell like rain on the halfrevealed

bosom 
come isora said john of prairie eden

and believe me his voice was low and

deep and thrilling with that music of passion

which always steals to the heart and

makes it beat more tumultuouslywe must

away assume this monkish gown and

wind the dark robe over it while i put on the

handsome dress of don augustin or stay

your purpose is changed you will not fly

with me and share the fate of the outcast and

the stranger 
isora raised her eyes john was standing

with his head drooped his hands clasped his

wild and singular face mellowed by a shade

of overwhelming sadness the strong man

seemed melted into very womanhood as he

talked to himselfit was his manner when

wrung to the heart by sudden emotion 
outcast yes i have no home nor father

brother sisternot one friend on the

wide earth of god poor harry i see your

boyish face and clear blue eyesyour voice

o harry how it comes back to my soul

and in cold blood they put you to death i

saw youyes now i see your face dabbled

in blood a smile quivering on your lips and

they are cold forever isabel dishonored


dishonored
the father hanging before the

porch of his own home his ashy face glowing

in morning sun isora deserts me

too isorathis dear flower which i found

blooming in her mexican home and wound to


my heartisora leaves the outcast to his

fate 
no wonder that voice whispering its wild

soliloquy pierced the maidens soul 
she rose from the floor and winding the

robe once more upon her form laid her right

hand upon his muscular chest while her eyes

shining through the intervals of her hair

burned with emotion too deep for words 
their eyes met the maiden seemed to

grow into his heart even as their glances

mingled in one a rosy red stole over her

cheeks and bloomed in dewy freshness on her

parted lips 
i have no home but with thee 
she did not tell how he had won her heart

how appearing at first in her lonely home

with an atmosphere of mystery and romance

about himhe had besought shelter from his

pursuers this was many days ago she

listened to his story won by the melody of his

voice the strange light of his eyes but more

than all by that absorbing story which spoke

of the dear prairie eden cirled by the trees

of the island grove the gentle brother

harry the dead father and the beautiful

isabel 
from that hour she loved him and many

a time in the gloomy chambers of the mansion

secluded from her brothers eye and

from the gaze of the arguseyed duenna

this young and passionate woman suffered her

unknown lover to kneel at her feet to thread

his fingers in the masses of her silken hair

and looked the magnetism of his soul into her

eyes 
she did not tell him in words this story of

her love but it shone in her eyes it spoke

in the brief sentence uttered with dewy lips

and panting bosom 
i have no home but with thee 
let us pass once more into the shadows of

isoras bed chamber where the monk shrinks

back from the touch of a deathcold hand as

he hears the wellremembered voice














the voice of isabel







 
 






				 
				
				
			







			 
				
				 
 

				







how like a voice from the dead comes up

that voice of the wronged and dishonored

speaking through silence and darkness to

the heart of the wronger





texan mss






fear
not don antonio for i isabel of

prairie eden am with you 
the chamber was dark and that voice

breaking suddenly from the gloom sounds

like hollow accents from the lips of death 
it is her ghost groaned the miserable

man as remorse began to rend every fibre

of his soul from the shadows of the grave

she comes to haunt me 
not isabel the ghost but isabel the living

bloomingfair as when she won your

heart at prairie eden 
the cold hand pressed close within her

own and thrilled its ice to his heart 
nay shrink not from me don antonio

you loved me with an idolatry so wild so

mad loved me even when my father hung

writhing on the tree before his porch his last

groan gurgling up to god as your kiss was

on my lips long years have passed since

then don antonio would you like to look

upon my face once more or do you fear to

behold those eyes which once filled your soul

those lips which once clung to yours when

the heart was maddened by a foul drugthe

soul lost in the dreams of opium 
don antonio started from the couch and


struggled nervously to free himself from the

grasp of the cold hand but it held him as

with the clutch of an iron vice and the cold

fingers seemed like the bony hands of a

skeleton 
wouldst like to look upon my face don

antonio 
not a word from the lips of the trembling

man alone in that dark room with a woman

who had come from her grave to haunt

him he grew icy cold and heard his heart

throb like a deathwatch yet he was a brave

man and had done a butchers work on human

forms in many a battle 
all the while the sound of voices in the

next chamber came indistinctly to his ears

and added to his frenzy for he was frenzied

now cold and hot by turns now burning with

fever and now chilled into ice 
suddenly all was still in the adjoining

chamber and don antonio felt the cold hand

and heard the voice again 
come you shall look upon my face 
the door swung open don antonio had

missed it in his nervous phrenzy and the cold

hand let the shuddering man into the next

chamber 
holy trinity it is the novice brother

paulo 
retreating with a shudder don antonio

beheld in the center of the chamber the form

of a monk whose dark cowl was thrown over

hts head and face suffering only a glimpse of

the features to be visible 
the lamp stood on the floor and flung its





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



upward rays over that dark motionless form

with the marblewhite hands appearing from

the folds of the shapeless robe around were

the pictured walls of that desolate room the

grim portraits and tapestry that flapped again

the stone which it concealed with a slow and

hollow sound 
john of prairie eden isora and the brave

don augustinall were gone from that

gloomy chamber the cowled figure and

don antonio were alone in the silence and

shadow 
yes it is the novice said the wellremembered

voice from the shadow of the cowl

the novice who three months ago entered

the monastery of san francisco as a lay brother

and soon became the secretary of the

reverend monk father pedro you have

never seen this face good fatherat least

never in a cowlnever since
the night
 oh

you remember it

the night of praire

eden

 
don antonio even with his shaven crown

and cheek was by no means an unhandsome

man his dark olive features the boldly

chisselled nose the ponderous brow overarching

large and lustrous eyes the mouth

around whose lips scorn and love and the

power of a dauntless will played by turns

all resembled some antique head moulded in

rich bronze 
he was we say by no means an unhandsome

man his springy step his graceful

form the monkish robe could not altogether

hide but now he was hideous livid in the

face and stricken down as by a pestilence in

every trembling limb a fear a horror worse

than death possessed his veins for before

him in the cowled form of the novice or neophyte

paulo who had glided by his side for

the last three months he beheld not a living

shape but a ghostly image from the regions

of the dead sent to haunt his perjured soul 
falling on his knees he crossed his brow

and cried to god for mercy 
the neophyte raised that marblewhite


hand in a moment the cowl would fall from

the face don antonio dared not turn his

eyes away and yet shuddered as he anticipated

the disclosure of the ghastly features of

the dead 
the cowl fello what a ghastly vision

broke on don antonio then 
that face whiter than alapaster with the

delicate veins traced on the colorless brow

and a single spot deep red burning like a

flame on each cheek those lips pale vermillion

moving without a sound the eyes unnaturally

large spreading with their strange

light from the brow to the cheekbone and

shining with an unfaltering glare upon the

kneeling monk 
around this deathly face like a crown of

ebony was a mass of jet black hair making

the pale features yet more pale and giving

additional fire to the glaring eyes 
there are no words in language to picture

the sad reproach the overwhelming melancholy

of that face around it like a veil

seemed to hang the very atmosphere of despair


 
you think it sadly changed don antonio

that face which once won your
love
yet

we are all changed father pedro five

years ago you were the handsome cavalier

pressing the drugged goblet to the lips of a

weak girl who sank at your feet her soul

wrung in every fibre her brain whirling in

madness now you are the monk and before

you stands the girl whom you dishonored

while her brother bears your sinless sister

away to his bridal chamber bridal chamber

a sweet word fatherbridal chamber

without one priestly rite or marriage vowa

meaning word father pedro 
she raised herself erect in all the pride of

her fallen majesty and stretched forth her

white hand as though she scattered the ashes

of her curse upon his brow 
it was pitiable to see the agony of the

monk whose heart seemed crushed by his

remorse




				 
				
				
			






			 
				
				 
 

				






holy trinity my sisterpure and

stainlesswhat hath she done to merit this

wrong 
she is guilty even as isabel of prairie

edenguilty of her innocence and beauty 
it was now the moment when the cup of

don antonios degradation filled even to the

brim before the woman whom he had

wronged five years agobasely wronged

with an outrage that has no forgiveness this

side the grave no revenge save the outpouring

of bloodthis proud man now grovelled

like a slave beneath the lash yes like a

hound beneath his masters scourge 
lady be you a living woman or be you

a spirit from the grave listen for a moment

before you pour the last drop into this bitter

cup i confess my crimes my baseness i

acknowledge this on my knees thus crouching

at your feet i murdered the fatherthe

daughter i dishonoredthe brother i put to

death even as he begged for a crust for a

drop of water no tears no prayers not one

writhing of my victims soul swayed me aside

from my course can i confess more yet

my sisterin the name of god and his angels

do not suffer wrong to visit her and of

all wrongs that outrage which has no baptism

of redemption but blood for she is

pure she is innocent take my life but do

not olisten to medo not harm this child

whom my dying father bequeathed to my

care 
cold and calm the cowled woman listened

to his prayer not one feature in her marble

face indicated emotion her lip was firm her

eye unfaltering in its withering scorn 
there was no answer from her lips but the


monk read it in that silent vengeance of the

pale beautiful face 
bowing his head on his hands the cowl

dropped over his face and a silence ensued

unbroken by a sound 
at last it was broken by the echo of a footstep

and a halfclad figure rushed wildly into

the room 
it was don augustin his face red with

frenzy stained on the brow with a hideous

wound his form divested of his handsome

coat of green and gold 
you linger hereyoushame has the


monk
robbed you of all that belongs to the


soldier
 to the
man
you linger here and

the accursed heretic has borne your sister

away passed the guard disguised in my

coat and now perchancebut what mummery

have we here 
for the first time he beheld the disguised

woman 
don augustinthe voice of the monk

was husky as he raised his livid facein

that cowled form you behold my fatethe

destiny of my housethe woman whose honor

i crushed without remorse five years

ago in her home of prairie eden 
the small ferret eyes of the mexican

twinkled with rage 
can i believe my eyes is it don antonio

marin whom i see kneeling here arise

be a man let us pursue the heretic there

is a boat by the mole we will pass through

the american fleet and track the robber to

his den in the isle of sacrificios it is a work

of danger i knowyou are afraidafraid

when the honor of the home of your father is

at stake




				 
				
				
			






			 
				
				 
 

				






he paced the floor rubbing his hands together

as he cursed some dozen excellent

oaths in pure spanish 
come i will go with you iand don

antonio sprang to his feetbut who will

lead us to the den of the heretic 
a low sad voice unbroken by a tremor


was heard echoing far along the gloomy

chamber 
that will i 
and isabel with her pale face turned to

the light her full eyes fixed upon her betrayer

pointed with her white hand toward the

door














the isle of the sacrifice







 
 






				 
				
				
			







			 
				
				 
 

				







near vera cruz in the isle of sacrificios

where the aztecs offered the sacrifice of

human bloodsubterranean chambers have

been discovered and images of the forgotten

religion with the altar stone on which

the victim was slain





texan mss






the
isle of the sacrifice 
we stand upon its sandy shore with the

dark waves breaking in low murmurs all

around us the deep night gleaming upon us

from the dark dome overspread with stars

san juans castle frowning over the waters

and white orizaba lowering from afar into the

great temple of the midnight universe 
a strange isle with its rocks and sands

and scattered herbage stretches before us

three hundred years ago the altar of sacrifice

smoked with his bloodred incense here

and the groans of the victims echod far over

the waters as the anointed priest of the faith

of murder tore from the mangled breast the

quivering heart 
even now beneath this soil strange chambers

lie hidden stored with the gods and altars

of the aztec faith 
still from yonder shore echoes the tramp

of armed men and through the night the sails

of the american ships gleam like white mists

hovering over the waters 
suddenly a halfnaked form springs from

the waves and stands erect upon the sand


by the dim light of the stars you may discern

the iron outline of that figure with loose

trowsers clothing it below the waist while the

sinewy arms the firm broad chest are bared

to the night breeze 
had you but one gleam of light you would

behold the flesh along the back severed with

many a hideous welt mangled into one clotted

mass of sores and blood 
this unknown man springing from the

waters without one sound or word to warn us

of his approach shakes his huge arms in the

air and with clenched hands and groaning

utterance disturbs the silence with words like

these 
by i am free you shall not scourge

my back again nor dig your lash into my

flesh once more though i am but a common

sailor in the american navy by i

would sell my soul to the devil could i but

have the brave captain of the here on

this barren shore for five minutesonly five

minutes curses upon that flagcurses upon

its stripes and stars the stripes for the

common sailors backthe stars for every

petty tyrant who may buy a commission by

crawling round the avenues of the city of

washington i swear as god sees me to

hate and fight against that flag forever may

the devil catch me this minute if i would not

like to have it here and grind it into the sand

beneath my feet 
the escaped sailor turned from the waves

and steadfastly fixed his eyes upon the barren

isle




				 
				
				
			






			 
				
				 
 

				






twenty paces from the shore a small

rock of peculiar shape rises from the sand

near ihat rock your freedom awaits you

what can it mean tonight as i lay in

my irons a paper was pressed into my hand

by a strange man who whispered take this

fileread the paperand swim to sacrificios

i am here but wheres the rock 
even as he spoke there rose at his feet a

small rock triangular in shape with its surface

covered with uncouth figures discernible

by the light of the stars he examined

the rock with a careful and searching scrutiny


 
all was silent around no trace of a human

form was visible 
im prettily fooled growled the escaped

sailor with an oath but its my only chance

here goes 
with a strong effort he raised the rock

from the sand or to speak more correctly

lifted it on one end and a warm light streaming

from a square aperture at his feet bathed

his face with a ruddy glow then it might

be seen that his hair and beard were alike

fiery red in hue his face embrowned by the

sun and rain his eyes bleared and swollen

his teeth revealed by his parting lipsblack

broken and irregularaltogether a hideous

visage 
at his feet as from a well streamed that

hidden light disclosing a rude ladder whose

top rested against the side of the aperture in

an instant his huge form was concealed in

the passage and with his brawny arms he

drew the rock back to its original position

and descended the ladder even steps he

counted and turning his head over his shoulder

saw that he had entered a small room or

cavern with a blazing pineknot attached to

its rocky wall 
in that light like the crude horrors of some

nightmare dream he beheld the details of

the place three obscene idols formed of

porphyritic rock and six feet in height supported

the ceiling of the cavern between


these idols three black spaces appeared evidently

passages leading deeper down into

the subterranean chambers of the isle of sacrifice

on the wall near the eastern idol the

pineknot was hung by its light the sailor

read the crumpled paper which he drew from

his trowsers pocket 
today you were lashed like a dog your

flesh peeled from your bones at the command

of a petty tyrant would you be free tonight

a file will be placed in your grasp and

with it directions which will enable you to

seek the company of a jovial band who acknowledge

no lord nor master save







letter







 
 








			nbspnbsp
		the chief of the free rangers



			nbspnbsp
		


march th 






it was an interesting thing to observe the

face and form of this escaped sailor while he

stood by the torch engaged in deciphering

the somewhat mysterious epistle which we

have given above 
the light streamed over his red hair and

beard disclosing the sinews of his gigantic

chest and revealing his broad back with the

blood oozing slowly from its welts and

sores 
at first his countenance wore a gloomy

scowl 
i have been fooled he murmured with a

blasphemous oath and tossed the paper to

the ground 
ha what is this he cried as he beheld

a piece of paper some ten inches square affixed

to the wall by a knifebeyond the

eastern idol lies your way pursue it in darkness

for some hundred paces descend a stairway

and await further orders from the




c f r














section







 
 




without a second thought the sailor passed

beyond the eastern idol and measuring his

paces through the darknesswhile a chill air

swept against his cheeksoon came to the

stairway which he descended and discovered

a light shining around the angle of a rock





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



distant from where he stood not more than ten

yards 
he soon reached the rock and started back

with a shout of wonder mingled with delight

the rock a huge and irregular crag with a

similar crag opposite formed the doorway to

a chamber some twenty feet square in the

centre of which stood a table stored with the

most luscious fruit and viands mingled with

flasks of wine 
this much at a glance the escaped sailor

beheld but entering the chamber he examined

its minutest details with something of a cold

shudder thrilling every nerve for around

that table with a chair at either end and

spread as if for a banquet were grouped the

most hideous forms of the ancient aztec theology

sculptured in every variety of ugliness

and looking altogether with their uncouth

shapes stony eyes and distorted features

like the attendant devils of some infernal festival


 
the light in the centre of the table standing

amid fig and oranges grapes and flowers

imparted a ruddy warmth to the prominent

points of the idols while everything beside

was wrapped in misty gloom 
a devilish queer company cried the sailor

as he flung himself in a chair but the

wine bottles look tempting and the cold ham

is not to be sneezed atparticularly by a

common sailor who has not tasted food for

twelve hours ha champaigne as im a

sinnerpop how the sound of that cork

makes them starethese respectable gentlemen

with the stony eyes and peculiarly ugly

faces a slice of ham a biscuit and another

pull at the champaigne bottle i feel quite

comfortable by 
it would require the pencil of some artist

who delights in the grotesque and horrible to

picture this scene 
relieved by the dark background the burly

face of the sailor framed in red hair and

beard stood boldly out in the light in one

hand a champaigne bottle in the other a slice


of ham inserted between two biscuits his

huge form is comfortably disposed in the arm

chair and his broad chest begins to swell

and heave with the fiery impulse of the

wine 
above the rocky ceiling and around the

table those distorted forms and uncouth faces

looking like living things as the light flit

to and fro over the dusky outlines 
one figure towers above the rest a dim

shape of darkred stone with a knife of obsidian

or volcanic glass extended in its deformed

right arm it is the aztec wargod


mexitili
 
and here where the priests of the forgotten

creed administered their bloody rites 

years ago now sits the escaped slave of the

american navy making merry with the wine

bottle in his hand while his roystering catch

is echoed far along the gloomy recesses of the

cavern 
it was a strange song that he sung and

seemed to have some bearing upon a murder

done at sea by a captain of the american

navy




they hung at the yardarm swing so gay

				
				nbspnbspnbspnbspnbsp
				nbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbsp
				their feet in the air their faces to heaven

the captain wiped his lips and saidlet

us pray





and then three cheers for god were given




the stars and stripes and the tyrants law

				
				nbspnbspnbspnbspnbsp
				nbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbsp
				let us merrily cheerily sing
for god let us now my boys hurah

				
				nbspnbspnbspnbspnbsp
				nbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbspnbsp
				as we merrily cheerily sing




with some dozen more doggrel verses of

blasphemous tenor the escaped sailor plyed

the wine bottle until the aztec gods seemed

dancing round him and leering in his face with

their stony eyes 
then crowning his brow with a wreath of

blossoms snatched from the table he gravely

drank the health of the idols one by one

terming them all good fellows of the right

stripe though dn it they neednt make

such ugly faces




				 
				
				
			






			 
				
				 
 

				






the wine which he drank seemed not so

much to cheer as to madden him he felt it

burning like molten fire in every vein and

encircling his brain as with a mass of liquid

light 
whether from his long fast or the peculiar

effect of the wine we cannot decide but

wherever he turned his head he saw the cold

face of a dead man who glared upon him

with eyes like glass as his body hung suspended

to an oaken limb 
that quivering oaken limb that cold white

dead mans face was everywhere now among

the idol forms now moving slowly overhead

now seen in the centre of the table the limb

always trembling the face always white dead

and ghastly 
yet this sight did not strike the drunken

sailor with anything like fear he drank only

the more shouted the louder and trolled as

he danced around the table his doggrel song

until the nooks and corners of the cavernroom

seemed yelling on with the echo of a

hundred voices 
at last whether it was a reality or but part

of his drunken dream we know not but he

suddenly became aware of the presence of a

new guest a tall man dressed in deep black

a veil upon his face shrouding his features

from view 
would you said a voice of full and manly

intonation would you become one of

us 
that depends pretty much on who you

are and what you follow 
and the drunkard staggered to the chair

endeavering to clear his eyes from the fiery

mist which danced before them 
we are a band of brothers who gathering

our taxes from the land sea have turned

this war to our own uses we have gathered

our members from the oppressed in the army

and navy of the united states we have a

threefold objectsecurity plunder and revenge

will you join us 
i will hoss cried the sailor falling into


the slang which he had acquired years ago

in the prairies of the west jist show me a

chance now 
but you are afraid to take our oath you

will shudder at the initiation of the independent

order of free rangers 
the sailor started to his feet leaned over

the table and while his bloodshot eyes rolled

in frenzy grinned until his discolored teeth

were visible as he uttered an oath too horrible

for repetition 
i dont care much what yer oath is im

a royal arch curser myselfi am and as

to yer initiation tell me what kin a man fear

who has been lashed like a dog on board a

free american ship of war show me a

chance i say and let me but stand free to

face with the captain of the only for a

minuteo only for a minute 
wait here and in one hour you will be

summoned by a brother of our order he

will lead you to the altar where your courage

will be tried for as our lives will hang upon

your fidelity it is important that we know

what manner of man you are before we admit

you into our brotherhood rememberin

half an hour prepare 
the figure in black disappeared behind the

image of the war god mexitili 
half an hour passed away the cavern

no lodger rang with shouts of boisterous merriment

the viands were no longer eagerly

devoured nor the bottles emptied with mad

rapidity 
along the table heaped in inextricable

confusion were scattered wreaths of blossoms

slices of ham biscuits bottles oranges

figs and flowers but the drunken sailor who

with the print of the free american lash on

his back reeled here an hour ago singing

blasphemous songs where is he now 
in the arm chair at the head of the table

behold him his shock red hair and beard presenting

a frightful contrast to his face which

is now as pale as a corse




				 
				
				
			






			 
				
				 
 

				






he is a very strong man and yet now he

trembles from head to foot his bloodshot eyes

neither turn to the right or left but glare fixedly

before him 
why this paleness this trembling this unknown

fear 
a deep groan is heard 
i believe that my heart is burning to a cinder

within me my temple throbs as though

the pendulum of a clock were enclosed in my

skull i cannot drink any morei tremble

i am hot and cold by turns ah whos

therewhos that repeating my name 

ewen mcgregor
 called a voice from the

recesses of the cavern do you still desire

to enter the brotherhood 
i do faltered the sailor 
then come hither 
he arose tottered along the cavern until

the darkness enclosed him a cold breeze

swept against his cheek there was a hand


pressed upon his ownwhy did he turn cold

as that hand touched his fingers 
advance twenty steps with me take this

knife and obey 
he took the knife and was led forward in

the darkness until the folds of a curtain brushed

his face 
within the chamber shrouded by this curtain

lies your victim bound to the altar of

the aztec faith as they bound their victims

three hundred years ago do not feardo

not tremble but think of the lashes you received

this day and without lifting the veil

which conceals the face strike home enter

and obey 
why did the brain of the stouthearted

sailor suddenly feel as though all the blood

in his herculean frame had rushed into his

skull 
he grasped the knife and dashed the curtain

aside


















the monk beholds the revenge







 
 






				 
				
				
			







			 
				
				 
 

				







it was a bitter drop in his cup no doubt

but he had to drink it





texan mss





we will return to the chamber of the three

idols 
not ten minutes had elapsed since red

ewen the sailor left its confines when three

figures stood revealed by the light of its pine

torch 
here isabel her pale face framed in the

cowl which increased the strange lustre of

her eyes and made her features both spectral

and ghostly by her side don augustin his

form shrouded in a dainty brown mantle varied

with silver trappings and glittering with

a single jewelled star under the torch his

bronzed visage distinctly disclosed in every

vein and nerve by the downcast rays stood

father pedro otherwise called don antonio

clutching his hands in nervous intensity as

his livid lips trembled with a soundless motion


 
the cowled lady was calm and cold

don augustin redfaced and fiery ubout the

eyes 
don antonio a picture of remorse carved

in black and bronze 
around them the obscene images seemed to

live nnd move as their forms were now darkened

by a sudden shadow and now illumined

by so ruddy a light 
don augustin dashed the sheath of his


sword against the hard floor of the cavern in

a gesture of extreme impatience 
comethe devil and all his imps seize

this night and all its workshe was choice

in his cursing was don augustinwe have

lingered long enough dared danger enough

good lady it is time for you to fulfill your

promise lead us to the haunt of this texan

heretic and pirate as he is and we will

force the lady isora from his grasp 
my sister as my father poured forth his

blood at my feet he consigned thee to my

care murmured the monk 
the brother alone may thread these passages

with me broke in the sad tones of the

cowled isabel father pedro alone may rescue

his sister nay scowl not don augustin

nor curl your lip with scornit must be

so or i will even leave the poor girl to her

fate 
await here don augustin hurriedly exclaimed

father pedro i will track these

solitudes alone if i do not return within an

hour follow and avenge 
why that smile on the pale red lips of isabel

as she surveys their parting embrace

the cheek of the monk laid against the face

of the soldierthe firm clasp of each others

hands and the meaning glance of their

eyes 
i will await youif need be avenge you

don augustin laid the paint of his sword to

his lips 
comeyour sister calls you and





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



isabel led the way into the darkness beyond the

western idol 
saw you that pale face turned to the light

the moment ere it disappeared the eyes and

the lips wearing the same expression cold

relentless ghostly 
now came the moment of don antonios

triumph through these dark passages where

the air was hot and stifling and chilled with

subterranean draughts by turns down these

rude stairways hewn three centuries aye

perchance ten centuries ago in the solid rock

up these rugged ascents where the footstep

became unsteady as it encountered the stony

fragments flung over the dark path on and

on in darkness the monk followed his silent

guide 
the darkness was dense palpable it seemed

to shut him in like the boards of a coffin

the silence was dead and appalling unbroken

save by the echo of their footsteps 
isabel was silent for a quarter of an hour

no word passed her lips but her cold hand

was damp with a clammy moisture that chilled

the hand of don antonio throughout every

nerve 
how the consciousness that he was alone

with the woman whom he had so foully

wronged pressed like a sentence of death on

his soul 
still in all the wilderness of his baseness

and crime there bloomed one beautiful flower

more lonely from the very blackness that

encircled itthe love of a pure and stainless

sister 
at lastoh how gladlywith what an involuntary

cry of delight he beheld ita light

shone from afar over the darkness of their

way 
isabel spoke for the first time 
that light shines on your sisters face 
the word touched don antonios heart

with new life 
on onhe shudderedit may be too

late 
nearer and larger grew that light until it


resembled a sun so round and full and blazing

it broke upon their eyes an unearthly sun

glancing over the darkness of these aztec

vaults 
why linger on each moment of stifling suspense


 
at last they stood near the light it shone

out upon the rock bound passage from a circular

space framed by rocks and lighted up

the roof the floor the walls of this lone corridor

with a red glaring glow 
the passage ends here whispered isabel

that light shines from a chamber from

which we are separated by a solid wall of

rock 
let us enter the chamber my sister is

there gasped the monk 
your sister indeed is there but you cannot

enter the chamber unless you retrace

your steps and from the chamber of the three

idols depart by the eastern passage it may

be well for you to do this but first advance

and through this crevice behold your sister 
don antonio saw her looksaw her face

lighted for a moment by a smileoh how

wild and unearthlyand was afraid to advance

he feared to behold the secret of that

unknown chamber 
she took him by the hand and dragged

him to the sperture in the solid wall of

rocks 
this was the sight which he saw 
a small room circular in form whose wall

was formed by one undulating curtain of faint

crimson which was supported by three slender

white pillars from the celingit was

like a dome and painted to resemble a midnight

sky blue spotted with starshung a

fiery globe which bathed the place in dazzling

light 
this light which seemed to float and wave

in waves of liquid flame was tempered and

softened by clouds of snowy incense smoke

which emerged from the thousand apertures

of the globe and wrapped the room in intoxicating

odors




				 
				
				
			






			 
				
				 
 

				






beneath the globe in the centre of the rich

matting which supplied the place of a carpet

was a cushion or couch of rich scarlet velvet

fringed with gold and near it a sofa or divan

of the same rich tevture 
on the sofa half seated and half reclined

was a man of some twentyfive years he did

not seem more his dark hair and beard curled

and perfumed after the manner of the

luxurious sybarites of old his broad chest

heaved beneath a garment of purple velvet

flashing with gold and jewels fine linen

about his bold throat and around his bronzed

hands a broad belt of rich embroidery

across his chest a dagger quivering by his

side 
his face glowed it shone in every feature

with a mad delight it was a face that could

not easily be forgotten 
behold that downcast head those large

eyes whose intense gaze grows soft with

moisture those parted lips which seem unclosed

in the act of murmuring words of

passion 
his right arm was extended it held aloft a

golden goblet curiously carved and brimming

with deep purple wine 
but there was a fair hand laid upon the

wrist of that extended arm 
well might don antonio gasp for breath 
a womans form was couched upon the

velvet cushion her head resting upon the

knee of the man as with an intoxicating langor

stealing over her face she gazed upward

through the intervals of her soft silken hair

and lifted her arm clutching his wrist as if to

seize the goblet 
she was clad in an azure tunic or loose

frock which fell without a girdle from her

shoulders to her knees revealing by the soft

gradations of every fold the gentlest undulations

of her shape below the knees her

limbs were bare their snowy whiteness contrasting

with the scarlet rubiness of the cushion

a delicate sandal of pink satin was bound

to the sole of each foot leaving all beside in


its unveiled loveliness the delicate azure

veins perceptible beneath the softly flushed

carmine skin 
a diamond sparkled on the tunic where it

half and only half concealed her bust it

sparkled with every pulse of her bosom shone

as that bosom rose and glittered softly like a

fading star as it fell 
no more beautiful no more delicate contrast

can be imagined than that which was

presented by the soft whiteness of her half revealed

shoulders and the mazes of her silken

hair as black as a pall 
one tress fell over her rising bosom as i

in shame and veiled it as it heaved like a

creamy billow into light 
the face told the full story of that mad intoxication

which thrilled every nerve of this

beautiful girlthis sultana of the rockbound

bower 
through the lipsthey were slightly parted

glowing with moist vermillion gleamed

the ivory teeth over the cheek soft rounded

downy burned a rosebud flush which

now contracted in one intense heat of passion

and again seemed to spread forth its rosy

leaves over the whole face 
the eyes bright and dewy and shining

languidly from the heavy lids which seemed

weighed down by the intoxicating ordors of

the place were centered upon the face

glowering down upon that beautiful form with

a glance not to be mistaken 
wilt drink isora wilt drink to our

merry life upon the broad ocean where i thy

loverhusband will gather spoil for theefor


thee
from every flag and win diamonds for

thy white brow from every clime and after

the battle is over the good ship with its

royal black flag will tranquilly glide into the

green cove of our island home thou wilt

stand upon the shore waving thy white arms

as thy rover comes up the steep cliffs comes

home to thee covered with laurels and spoil

drink isora to the days when we shall dwell

on our island home




				 
				
				
			






			 
				
				 
 

				






she raises her white arms the goblet is in

her hand its golden rim is pressed against her

red lip the purple wine glides slowly in a

rich mellow current through that quivering

portal 
i love none but theethee only juan

wherever thou goest upon sea or shore i

will go with thee in battleher slight nostril

quiveredi will bind on thy sword and

laugh as the red mist waves over thee in

peace when the fight is over this bosom

shall pillow thy head as we sit at the porch

of our island home and gaze upon the young

moon rising over the waveless sea 
she twined her white arms upon his sinewy

hands and dashed her silken hair over his

arms all the while her bosom veiled by

that solitary tress rose like a creamy billow

bearing on its creast a dark and glossy burden


 
the incense smoke agitated by a current

of air descended and swept over them like a

veil 
don antonio could not withdraw his gaze

from the aperture oh what fiend but would

pity him now as the crushing agony of his

soul glares in his glassv eyeballs and quivers

in his parched lips he cannot withdraw his

gaze from the aperture his eye is fixed upon

the undulating veil of the incense smokehe

hears those kisses those words of passionate

transport but cannot withdraw his gaze 
isabelis she still cold and calm does

no relenting throb pulsate in her icecold bosom


 
the light glaring around that passage revealed

that motionless form resembling a marble

image of vengeance veiledall save the

facein a monkish cowl 
once only there was something like a

burning tear upon her colorless cheeka tremor

on her lip it was for an instantshe

was marble again 


don antonio turned he seized her deathcold

hands 
woman he fiercely shrieked have you

no pity look my sister my only sisters

senses drugged by maddening draughtsher

honor torn from her in a moment of delirium

pitymercynot for my sake but for

hers 
isabel was silent one word after a pause

she gasped one only and that with an evident

effort 

prairie eden
 
the monk fell backward as if blasted by

a thunder stroke but those sounds in the

curtained chamber those kisses of mad passion

those raptures of voluptuous transport

he heard them still and was nerved with the

savage strength of despair 
you must save my sister by the holy

trinity i swear your life shall pay the forfeit

of her outraged honor your life i

swear it 
he had grasped her wrists and all the devil

of his soul shone from his features horribly

distorted by passion rage madness 
with but a single phrase she answered

him 

rancho salado
 
the hands of the monk fell he beat his

forehead against the rocks grappled the cold

surface until his nails were splintered at the

finger ends and in the pauses of his phrenzy

he shouted aloud her namehis sisters

name 
isoratis your brother who calls

isora in the name of your dead father

hear me 
the incense smoke waved aside the monk

looked through the aperture 
oh god this is worse than eternal death

she hears me notkisses his arms about

her neckthe goblet isora o shamedespair

villain i defy youproclaim you

cowardmonster will meet you face to

face in combatisora




				 
				
				
			






			 
				
				 
 

				






and like the chorus to his broken ejaculations

was heard those whispering voices 
mine 
thine only 
but my poor brother harry with his pale

face and blue eyes well drink to his memory

drink to him as he kneels in presence of

his murderer the prayer yet warm upon his

lips as he falls coldcolddead vengeance

to the murderer of poor harry 
give me the goblet thine eyes madden

thy voice whirls my soul as on a billow of

flame i drink juandeath and shame to

the murderer of thy brother 
isora groanednot shoutedthe monk

as he fell back from the fatal aperture in the

rocks his soul stupified by the voluptuous

frenzy which burned his eyes as he beheld

it 
isabel hears this and does not relent ah

the cold remorseless vengeance of the dishonored

woman fail her at once you see a

vivid flash brighten over her face she veils

her eyes beating the hard earth all the while

with her tiny foot 
he murdered my fatheri see his cold

faceoh god how it glares in the rising

sun harry too went forth from home and

came back no more there stands the murdered

my honorthat which is the world

heaven life to a womanhe crushed into the

dust as the poisoned cup whirled its frenzy

through my brain i know it allconfess it

my god but his sister she hath done no

wrong her ravings uttered in the madness of

passion they madcen me i can bear it no

nger 


she turned aside from the glare of the light

and her footsteps echoed along the caverned

passage 
the monk raised his eyesshe was gone

his despair was now complete it was a horrible

sight to see him tear the flesh from his

face with his splintered nails 
suddenly three forms veiled in blue robes

appeared in the light their faces lost to view

in the folds of their garments 
with one movement they seized father pedro

bound him despite his frantic resistance

and held their sharp knives at his bared

throat 
with the bandage across his mouth the

corns on his arms these veiled forms lifted

him to the aperture once more 
he looked 
those who held him were thrilled with the

cold shudder that pervaded his form 
once more 
he lay motionless in their grasp his proud

spirit broken his face changed and fallen as

though the ice of death had been poured

upon it 
you have beheld only the beginning of

justice as administered by the free rangers

now comes the end 
like an inanimate burden they bore the

conscious but palsied monk into a dark passage

which suddenly opened near the bright

aperture in the wall whether it was a secret

door or only a hollow in the rocks which had

evaded his search he knew not but suffered

hem to bear him unresistingly along














red ewen is initiated







 
 






				 
				
				
			







			 
				
				 
 

				







a singular rite was the initiation of the

free rangers a dead man was placed

upon the aztec altar and





texan mss






red
ewen grasped the knife and pushed the

curtain aside it was a wondrous sight that

met his gaze he was a man of giant strength

and superhuman nerve infernal beyond the

fancy of a devil in his remorseless cruelty

but within half an hour a strange coldness

succeeded by a burning senation as sudden

and as strange had robbed his iron sinews of

their vigor 
the knife trembled in his grasp 
he stood in a room or cell or vault as you

may please to term it hollowed out of the

living rock not more than five yards in

diameter the floor was level the ceiling

shaped like a dome but all was solid rock

in the centre of the vault a square form of

stone arose a block six feet long and three

wide with its sides sculptured into every variety

of obscene or hideous hieroglyphic 
at the head of the blockit resembled an

ancient altar of sacrificetowered a shape of

brownish rock veined with bright scarlet and

re resenting in its ferocious eyes embruted

features and upraised war club the aztec god

of war 
around the altar were grouped four living


forms clad in long robes with a mantle falling

over every face 
the mantles were blue the robes bright

scarlet from every robe was extended an

arm grasping a lighted torch their mingling

rays filled the vault with light and scented

the air with grateful perfume 
red ewen stood like a statue dumb with

amazement 
to understand his feelings we must call to

mind the incidents of his life which took place

upon this eventful th of march 
this morning he writhed beneath the hang

mans lash on board a ship of war bearing

the banner of the stars 
only a few hours ago he lay in his chains

when a veiled man appear in the darkness

and taught him the way to freedom 
an hour ago he danced in drunken madness

in the aztec banquetting chamber his

veins fired by something more than champaigne

some deadlier poison than the venom

of alcohol 
now a change had come over him the

madness was gone cold hot fire ice by

turns he stood under the door of this strange

vault knife in hand and shuddered as he beheld

the four veiled forms whose heaving

breasts told that they were living the solitary

shape whose horrible deformity spoke of the

dim ages long since departed when the quivering

victim a strong man full of life was

hewn to pieces in this very cell 
one by one the living figues addressed the

escaped sailor




				 
				
				
			






			 
				
				 
 

				






could you become a free ranger admitted

to all the privileges of our brotherhood

 
the right to spoil and slay wherever a

sure foot a true steed a good ship may bear

you 
to gather tribute from all nations on

land and sea alike and select from the loveliest

women of the earth the woman who you

shall call wife so long as it may please you

and no longer 
a short life and a merry one a life with

the outcasts and oppressed of all nations a jovial

band who know no laws save those proclaimed

by their chief who reward the traitors

deed with the sharpest knife and the

strongest cord 
then their voices joined in chorus 
would you ewen mcgregor escaped

slave from the american navy become a

free ranger of the land and sea 
i would faltered ewen as the light played

over his enormous chest and his broad

back seamed with weltering stripes 
with his brutal form and animal face he

stood in that vault likd the appropriate demon

of the scene his burly face with bloodshot

eyes and thick lips disclosing black and

broken teeth encircled in his short stiff red

hair and long matted beard 
his face was pale his lip quivered as he

uttered the response 
then take the vow 
far be it from me to repeat that eloquent

liturgy of blasphemy 
it was loathsome enough horrible enough

in its crowded imprecations to satisfy the demon

of blasphemy himself even ewen

shuddered but that was with the fire and ice

which possessed his veins by turns 
and if i fail in this to obey the commands

of my leader or betray the secrets of the free

rangers may the knife of the suicide sever

my heart may earth deny me a grave when i

am dead and the beasts feed on my senselass

corse 


so ran the mildest part of the loathsome

ritual 
on his knees before the altar he took the

oath to obey the commands of
the leader


whatever they might beand knife in hand

he rose 
advance 
the voice sounded deep and hollow as it

echod back from the dome 
red ewen drew near the altar his animal

visage growing deathly pale 
uncover the form of the dead 
at the word one of the figures robed in

scarlet his face mantled in blue extended

his hand and lifted the altar cloth until a

small space of flesh evidently a glimpse of

a human chest on the left side near the heart

was visible the veins distinctly marked beneath

the clear olive skin 
prepare for the last act of initiation behold

this dead manraise your knife and

strike deep into his chest do thisprove

your defiance of all obligations imposed by

what pious fools denominate moralityprove

that you fear nothing either living or dead

and we hail you as a brother 
yet i swear by he lives faltered

ewen as an indefinable fear palsied his arm

lookhe is not deadthis man upon the

stonehe breathes 
folly your fancy deceives youhe is

deadaye dead he was a traitor and he

died according to our laws advance and

strike 
the blood rushed to red ewens face filling

every vein with the sudden and ferocious

instinct of carnage each starting eyeball

was filled with ejected blood his thick lips became

dark purple he grasped the knife with

all the vigor of his herculean arm and came

nearer to the altar 
still it seemed to move that chest concealed

by the cloth nay the bared spot of brown

flesh seemed to glow as with the sudden impulse

of strong emotion true the face of

the dead man was veiled in the altarcloth





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



yet still the bosom seemed to quiver with

life 
lookewen stands over the dead the

knife raisedit is ten inches longthe point

poised over the bared flesh 
a hissing soundit descendsit is buried

to the hilt in the breast of the dead man 
there was a pause while ewen with his

hand clutching the hilt exerted all his strength

to withdraw the blade

and in the action he

felt the body of the dead man writhe beneath

him

 
at the same moment the altarcloth was

partly raised and the face disclosed 
ewen the giant with an appetite for carnage

like the tigers staggered from the altar

as though the knife had pierced his own bosom

instead of the bosom of the dead 
for that face was a fearful thing to look

upon 
the cloth bound around the jaws of the uncovered

face did not conceal the horrible

working of the features nor hide the slow

rolling motion of the eyeballs terribly bright

with death as they turned from side to

side 
a moan was indistinctly heard 
don antonio marin shouted red ewen

as his veins seemed filled with an intolerable

heat and staggering back he gazed stolidly

upon the writhing features of the dying

man 
a figure dressed in blue and gold stepped

lightly over the entrance of the vault and

approached the altar 
the torch light which shone over the contorted

features of the dyinghark that gurgling

moanplayed upon the broad chest

the firm features of the intruder 
john of prairie eden shouted ewen as

he stood rooted to the floor hey whats

this by the living there is some plot

in this you here who lighted this vault

with those hellish flames and sent the devils

dancing around that dying spaniard 

ah 


he fell writhing in horrible convulsions to

the floor the foam frothing round his lips as

his fingers clutched the hard stone 
by the altarss head his brow uncovered

and his broad chest glowing with purple and

flashing with diamonds stood john of prairis

eden his features wearing a marble calmness

only disturbed by a slight movement of

the nether lip 
there was a satanic beauty about his face

whose broad forehead shaded by dark hair

firm aquiline nose compressed lipsappearing

in the midst of his moustache and beard

and large eyes deep sunken beneath arching

brows now wore an expression not the less

infernal because it struggled with a look of

quiet composure 
he bent over the uncovered face of don

antonio and whisperedeven as his beard

touched the brow of the dying manas his

eyes blazing with rapture shot their glance

into the starting eyesballs of the wretched victim

whispered in a soft voice and with a

pleasant smile these words 
when i withdraw the knife you will die

my friend hold you will injure yourself if

you attempt to speak again for that bandage

on your mouth makes it difficult for you to

dreathe much less speak be perfectly calm

my dear friend for i have much to say to you

ere you die do you know me do you

know me do you recognise these features

whomhis breath swept the cheek of don

antoniowhom do i resemble brother

harryeh or do i look like my father

or holddo you not trace a resemblance in

my smile to the gay laugh of isabel 
the cloth over the mouth was agitated by

a convulsive motion as the dying man made

a horrible effort to speak 
he knew the face look how his starting

eyeballs glare into the eyes of his doomsman


 
this scene seemed even to affect the forms

in robes of scarlet with blue mantles over

their faces by the light of the torches which





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



they grasped you can see their robes heave

as from the impulse of horroragony 
on the floor his giant form distorted into

a shapeless heap of deformityso horrible

was the fire which gnawed his intestines

red ewen lay the foam gathering in white

beads upon his swollen lips the white surface

of his eyeballs suddenly turned to scarlet


 
oh it was horriblehe ravedto force

me to drink that goblet of melted lead hot

hissing hot it burnsit burns o water

water you have covered my brain with

hot coals take your knee from my breast

old man of prairie eden for you are a dead

man your eyes are coldi hung you myself

to the tree 
that is red ewens voice my dear

friend and john smiling pleasantly bent

over the face of don antonio do you know

his voice a pleasant voice you heard it

once in prairie eden i am glad you know

it it was red ewen that stabbed you ungrateful

dog to turn his fangs against his

master my god he cried with an air of

chagrin this man is dyinghe has not more

than one minutes life in him and i have so

much to say to him so many important

things 
look yonder where the curtain hangs over

the narrow entrance and do not breathe lest

you disturb the beautiful vision a lovely

face with glossy black curls waving around

it appears amid those curtain folds the eyes

dancing with wild light gazing with wonder

and fear upon the strange group of this cavern

vault 
it is isora whose brother pinioned and

gagged the knife sunken to the hilt in his

breast lies writhing in death agony upon the

altar 
one movement of johnthe mere change

of his position for a single inch to either side

will reveal the horrible face of the dying brother

to his sisters gaze but john does not


moveall good angels be thankedthere is

a belt of shadow between the dying face and

the lustrous eyes of the sister 
hathat footstep isoro 
without moving one inch john turned his

smiling face over his shoulder and whispered

gently 
my love you have come it is well remain

where you are for a moment only

beautiful isora how i love to linger on the

music of that name
isora
 
the name rung through the vault in mellow

cadence 
she remained there trembling on tiptoe

in the narrow entrance of the vault her azure

tunic relieved by the dark curtain which

touched her shoulder as it fell her snowy

right arm raised upon her panting breast

and half mantled by her unbound hair 
juan i will stand here until you bid me

enter 
how musical the low tones of that voluptuous

womans voice it broke like a whisper

from some blessed spirit upon the stillness

of the vault and right upon it an infernal chorus

after angel music clashed the howl of

ewen writhing on the floor the faint moan

of don antonio gasping from the cloth that

bound his mouth 

he
heard that voice knew that his sister

was there almost within arms length and

yet he could not speak to her she could not

see him 
isora is here my dear friendisora

he whispered in the very ear of don antonio

would you like to speak to her she loves

me the beautiful girl and is minemine

without marriage are you perfectly sensible

don antonio have courage man for

you will need it i am about to place the

cloth over your faceit will never be lifted

while you live never will you look upon a

human face again and you will die with

the voice of your own sister in your ears that

voice which you love to hear invoking vengeance

on the murderer of the father and the





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



brother eternal vengeance on the betrayer of

the sister 
it was horrible to see the effort of the dying

man to unpinion his arms and make one intelligible

sound through the thick cloth which

bound his mouth once from side to side

rolled his glassy eyeballs john beheld and

smiled once the nerves of his face twitched

like the nerves of a corpse agitated by galvanism

and then 
john quietly placed the cloth upon his face

and shut him from the light forever 
turning from the altar his face beaming

with a smile he wound his arm around the

lithe waist of the young girl and led her genly

forward 
did the dying man hear that tripping footstep


 
lovemy own isora he gaed his gaze

upon her face glowing so rosy red on the

lip and cheek shooting such voluptuous

languor from the eyes you know my wrongs

have heard me tell of the incarnate fiend

who hung my father in his grey hairs to the

felons tree who had no pity for poor harry

though he knelt to him in the plaza of saltillo

and implored mercy with his blue eyes

the fiend isora who bought my sisters dishonor

wlth the price of a fathers life and

bade her rise from his arms that she might

behold the dead face of that very father

glowing in the rising sun isora you have

heard it all 
juan speak of it no moreno more woman

as i am weak and trembling there is yet

the blood of old castile burning in my veins

i will roam the world with thee juan come

we will find this wretch and will look upon

his agonies while you avenge yes i will

pray god to nerve your arm as you strike

deep exclaiming with every blowfor my

brother for my father for my sister 
eye flashing bosom panting she laid her

white arms upon his shoulder and looked up

into his face 


did the dying man hear that voice look

the cloth on his breast quivers in the light 
you need not roam far my love look

upon the altar lies the incarnate fiend the remorseless

destroyer of my race 
therelet me look upon his face 
she started forward john held her by the

arms but lightly as though he hesitated his

dark eye perusing all the while the passionate

warmth of her face 
no isora you must not gaze upon him

he said but holdwretch now quivering

on the altar i see your chest heaving with its

last pang and know that your moment is near

i ask you now in this moment whose flight

will leave you cold would you like to look on

a womans face and hear her beautiful lips

curse you as you die if your answer is yes

utter but the slightest moan and your face

shall be uncovered 
the wretch moaned 
yes rather than die thus in the dark cut

off from the sight of a human face forever he

would look upon his sister and hear her curse

him as he died little did he imagine that this

beautiful sister was unconscious of his presence

that she did not know him as the incarnate

fiend if there was one thought

darker than another in his dying heart it was

the thought to be cursed by my own sister

the beloved of my heart as i d e 
in that thought he felt horribly felt the

full retribution for his crimes 
no by the fiend whom you have served

you shall not look upon a human face again

die in darkness in the name of the father

the brother and isabel 
that movement of the altarcloth 
this form upon the floor juan it frightens

methis monster with the white foam on

his lips 
the accomplice of the fiend who blindly

struck the blow which killed his master and

now dies near him his heart eaten by poison

ewen i say do you know me champaigne





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



is a glorious drink but arsenicugh rise

man and die with some courageonly brute

courage if you willdont writhe there like

a dog 
the voice thrilling in cold tones through

the vault seemed to rouse ewen from his

stupor 
he rose heavily into a sitting posture and

brushed his brawny hand across his bloodshot

eyes the whole scene seemed to undulate

before himthe altar the silent figures the

beautiful isora and the calm smiling john of

prairie edenall seemed to glide slowly to

and fro 
he brushed the white foam from his lips

it was evident that his hour was near for his

finger nails were blue and the ruddy hue of

his face began to deepen into purple the

change of death was on him 
john i know you he gasped as though

every word was wrung from him by infernal

tortures a bad man johnive been



in philadelphiamy boyhave mercy

on him

 
with those incoherent words uttered with

hands clutching each other and bloodshot

eyes rolling in death he sank slowly into a

shapeless heap on the floor 
there was no groannot even a gasp

his purple face became black his swollen

lips the color of blueish clay his broad chest

was frecked with crimson spots not one

quiver disturbed his sinewy form nor did a

single tremor announce that a spark of life

yet lingered in his own muscles he was

deadhorribly distorted and blackened and

swollendead as the rock upon which he

laid 
why does that sudden paleness cross the

face of the avenger does his heart quail

now 
when he taunted the poisoned man and

bade him rise and die like a man he anticipated

a volume of curses from his foamy lips

he believed that ewen would yell forth his

last breath in blasphemies 


but those incoherent words uttered with

his last breath in the voice so very strangely

softened and with a look of horrible entreaty

my boyin philadelphiahave mercy on

him 
john of prairie eden so remorseless in his

satanic revenge felt a sudden shudder pervade

his form a horrible gulf black fathomless

yawned before his eyes he trembled and

sank on his knees his face buried in the bosom

of isora 
her soft hands played upon his forehead

her dark tresses waved over his shoulders

he could feel her heart beating warmly on

his cheek but that voluptuous pulsation

could not still the prayer of the poisoned

wretch which shrieked forever in the avengers

earsin philadelphiamy boyhave

mercy on him 
the figures in blue and scarlet are motionless

the torches still burning in their extended

hands ewen is blackened and dead

upon the floor mexitili glares in horrible

grotesqueness at the head ef the altar john

is kneeling his head pillowed upon isoras

breast and for the last time heaves the altar

cloth as a hollow sound the deathrattle

echoes round the vault 
then over the threshold comes the form of

a woman clad in a monkish gown her bosom

panting her breath trembling in gasps

her pale face flushed in every pore you see

her as she stands over the strange scene her

white hands clutching the robe to her breast

and her eyeseach pupil surrounded by a

white circleglare in silent agony from face

to face 
her dark hair gathered like an ebony

crown around her browswollen in every

vein with intense emotionsburst its cincture

and waves in glossy tresses over her shoulder

glossy and dark and yet amid its

blackness there are streaks of silver grey 
then to the altar advanced the miserable

woman whose life had been an antepart of

hell since the dark day when her honor was





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



wrecked she saw the clothed form on the al

tar and lifted the cloth from the face

and 
but there are emotions of the heart agonies

of the soul which angels fear to behold and


devils dare not look upon and we will drop

the pall over the scene over that sight which

we cannot witness 



isabel of prairie eden gazing upon the

dead face of her betrayer

















from vera cruz to philadelphia







 
 






				 
				
				
			







			 
				
				 
 

				







the vengeance was cemplete but now came

the turn of the avenger





texan mss






it
was in the walnutstreet theatre 
i hear the snarl of the critic and thus he

barks 
heres a pretty transitionfrom the aztec

vault of vera cruz to a philadelphia theatre

horrible here we have a story commencing

on the prairies of texas suddenly

dashing away to a desolate rancho in the heart

of mexico then to vera cruz and the vaults

of sacrificios and last of all to a philadelphia

theatre 
this is truly horrible and the author who

is guilty of the deed should be condemned

to solitary confinement for one day with a

dozen critics selected at random from the

newspapers and magazines of the large cities

such a punishment could make the warmest

blood run cold 
just fancy it in all its details one poor

author among a dozen critics here a critic

from boston brimming full of cant breathing

it talking it living in itcant from head to

foot all cant by his side distinguished by

a jockey eoat and dirtybrown mustache a

cockney critic from new york talking alternately

of progress and pennies wanting very

much to knowin one breathwhen the human

race will take passage in the progressional

steam car for ths millenium and how


much you will give him for a firstrate puff in

his paper 
far in the corner of the cell where our author

is confined behold the magazine critic of

philadelphia a jaunty thing delicate in perfume

with oysterish eyes the scissors in

one hand and the scrapbook in the other

a prim gentleman altogether who pities our

author in yellowish tears forhorrible

being popular with the
many
rather than the


select
 that many the rouge hardy people

of the workshop and plough that select

 some dozen newspaper and magazine

editors of philadelphia who hate each other

most fraternally and yet keep saying all the

year round to one anotheryou are a great

man and i am a great man and we

are all great men so allah bishmallah

there is but one literature it is in philadelphia

and humbug is its prophet 
or yet to go from small things to smaller

a critic south of mason amp dixons linea

baltimore critic the drollest of all kinds of

critics the very friskiest of all kinds of insect

crawling and biting around the skirts of

literature and growing fat as it crawls and

steals look at it a critic whose whitish

hair eyelashes and beard and tallow complexion

all indicate a human thing gone to

seed and sweltering in decay long before it

has enjoyed one moment of healthy ripeness

it publishes a large sheet called soundingly

the universal hemisphere and in the agonising

effort to be witty or die take some

such slang name as major tomkins an





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



writes in bad spelling bad grammar and bad

decency all being very humorous and quite

original 
imagine a poor author condemned to be

crawled over and bitten for one day only by

vulgarity and indecency impersonified in a

major tomkins a baltimore critic 
my kind readers in the country you will

pardon me for this digession about critics

when i assure you that it was undertaken entirely

for your good call this digression a

preface to my story if you please and i will

explain 
you very often see a ferocious attack in

some city perodical which cuts into ribbons

a book which you have been pleased to buy

read and love you wonder at this and perchance

take the attack for an honest expression

of prejudice although you of course

deny its fairness and truth your opinions

would be somewhat modified were you aware

that criticism is in the citiespretty generally

and with some honorable exceptionsa

mere matter of dollars and cents a business

contract between booksellers and criticsso

much praise for so many penniesan honorable

understanding between those who sell

books and who notice them that genius is

a thing made altogether of puffs and that he

who has most dollars can buy most puffs and

is of course the most extensive genius 
you will pardon me if i have the smallest

opinion of these magazine and newspaper

critics for in a circle of twelve i have in my

time seen one crittc who had forged another

mans name one who was a clergyman and

took his brandy and water and was often

led by his sympathies with virtue of course

into place better known than named one

who had issued counterfeit notes in his time

and finding this kind of paper rather unprofitable

took to newspapers one who had been

convicted of swindling and some three or

four who divided among them the shattered

fragments of the decalogue broken into

pieces and trampled under foot 


rather a jovial band of moralists this 
these critics will be the first to attack my

story and pronounce it a combination of improbabilities

when from first to last it is

founded on published facts which i have varied

to avoid the imputation of an unjustifiable

personality 
when they blow their blast and snarl

their snarl you will understand at once what

they mean that i am either too poor to buy

their praise with money or that i have nothing

of the egyptian in me never looking

with favor on that creed which taught you to

worship apes lest they would do you a mischief

and go down on your knees to vipers

lest they should bite you 
it was in the walnutstreet theatre 
look over this thronged house swarming

from the ceiling to the cellar with lifelife

in every shapetapestried in its three tiers

of boxes with human faces a sea of ragged

humanity boiling over in the pitand tell me

is it not a very solemn sight solemn you

laugh 
yes solemn as the air of a grave vault and

more impressive than the black skull of death

look at the scene 
here in the first circle the most elegantly

dressed men the most beautiful women

whose silken garments glow in the dazzling

light as their lovely faces are turned toward

the stage whose eyes outsparkle the jewels

on their heaving breasts and all the while

right before those sparkling eyes in the overflowing

pit you see the hardy sons of toil

mingled with the ragged vagabonds of the

good quaker city 
and all the while in sight of those sparkling

eyes in full view of those grave mothers

and beautiful wives and sinless sisters you behold

the third tier festering with the painted

prostitution of the good quaker city 
delicate contrasts these 
what is the sight that enchains the gaze

of the sinless girl and the painted outcast of

shame that rivets the eye of yonder





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



whitehaired man in the first tier and the ragged

boy in the pit right before him within reach

of his goldenheaded cane on what vision

of moral or intellectual beauty is centered

those thousand eyes flashing and sparkling

in the red gas light 
a halfnaked woman whirling over the

stage her form clothed in fleshcolored hose

that clings to the skin a piece of white gauze

fluttering from her waist her arms and bosom

bare a halfnaked woman whirling over

the stage now standing on one limb while

the other is poised in the air on a line with

her shoulder now trembling along on tiptoe

as in the ecstacy of lascivious frenzy now

crouching near the footlights her head bowed

until her naked breast is revealed to the

universal gazeto the eyes of the sinless girl

the painted outcast the old man and the ragged

boy 
this is the sight which rivets the gaze of

the crowded theatrea woman floating aleng

the stage and trafficing her nakedness for

bread 
for her the poor moth of the footlights

now fluttering in their glare only to be the

more surely withered in ther blaze there is

some excuse it is her livelihoodperchance

the head of an aged mother nay the life of a

sister depends on her dancing limbs every

twirl of her naked limb is one tear less on her

dying sisters cheeks 
but for these beautiful women these greyhaired

men who in the presence of the painted

prostitute and the ragged outcast boy gaze

on this spectacle with trembling delight what

is their excuse 
come i do not place it on the ground of

religion or morality but mereiy as a matter

of common decencydecency so common

that it can only raise one blush and diei

ask you my reader whether the world can

furnish a sight of more disgusting and heartrending

shame than this 
a halfnaked woman showing her limbs for

bread to feed a sick mother or dying sister


perchance while greyhaired men look on

and gloat and beautiful women made by

the same god who made the dancing woman

going down to the same graveworm which

will feed on her formgaze on their sisters

shame and do not blush 
do not charge me with a prejudice against

the drama that miserably prostituted drama

may be made the voice of genius the

music of religion 
but these halfnaked women on the stage

tossing in lascivious transport these painted

ones in the third tier bargaining in pollution

while their pure sisters may look on and up

from the aristocratic circlethese elegantly

decorated bars where drunkards are educated

and poison soldwill you tell me what

all this has to do with a pure and intellectual

drama 
must william shakspeare forever be made

the cloak of loathsome appetites and nameless

pollutions 
it was in the walnutstreet theatre the

curtain had fallen and the dancing woman

was gone the ragged boys were fighting in

the pit the traffic of shame was going on in

the third tier in boxes handsome women

were conversing with fashionably attired men

and here and there a puppy with something

like a human face dressed at all events in

the garments of a man was staring those

modest women out of countenance and fastening

its obscene gaze upon the face of the

pure maiden or the virtuous wife of all

puppies in the world the most impertinent is

the puppy of the theatre with an operaglass

in its hand 
it was in the midst of this confusion between

the acts that two persons entered the

central box and at once rivetted every eye

a tall man attired in plain black with the

slight form of a woman supported by his

right arm 
they quietly took the unoccupied seat and

as if by an instantaneous impulse the





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



thousand eyes of the theatre were turned upon

them 

the man was
 or appeared to be some

thirty five years of age there was nothing

peculiar in his dress black dress coat and

satin vest black neckerchief loosely tied a

faultlessly white shirt bosom sparkling with

a small diamond yet his face enchained

every eye by a kind of irresistible fascination


 
the features were bold his complexion a

pallid sallow olive indicating the traces of

strong physical or mental suffering and the

eyes so unnaturally large and dark seemed

not so much to gleam as to burn in their

sockets there was no moustache upon his

lip nor beard upon his chin but masses of

dark hair fell carelessly over a bold white

forehead 
he leaned his elbow on the edge of the

box and gazed upon the curtain with a vacant

stare 
by his side the slight form of a woman

whose face appeared among the folds of a

spanish mantilla the dark hues of the

graceful robe gave an unnatural paleness to

the colorless cheek and increased the burning

light of her large black eyes which shone

from the shadow of their long and quivering

lashes 
as she raised her hand to adjust the folds

of her mantilla a bracelet was visible dazzling

with the radiance of a solitary diamond


 
altogether the pair would have attracted

the eye in any place and became at once in

the street ballroom or parlor the universal

topic of conversation 
in the theatre the sensation was universal

eyes were turned glasses levelled the house

buzzed with a thousand whispers 
they are the strangers who have attracted

so much notice in chesnutstreet lately 
he is very very richa millionaire 
no a soldier from the mexican war 
i tell you that i have the right story


a mexican general taken prisoner at cerro

gordo 
how odd that mantillabad taste 
i rather like it it gives quite a charm to

her face 
what a splendid bracelet i 
do you observe that diamond upon his

bosom 
whispers like these from fair ladies and

fashionable men created a buzbuz murmur

in the dress circle the third tier was somewhat

eloquent in its remarks rather too much

so the second tier quite boisterous and as

for the pit it seemed to hesitate between a

cry of boots and chuck em over 
a single instance will serve as an illustration

of the public opinion of the pit 
i say hoss screamed a ragged newsboy

raising himself on his toes as he stood within

reach of the strangers arm only separated

by that barrier which confines the whirlpool

of the pit within its limits wot did yer giv

for that ar dimond jimini boys wot a

scorcher 
still the stranger with his cheek resting on

his hand stared vacantly upon the drop curtain

not a movement manifested his consciousness

that the eyes and impertinence of

the theatre were turned upon him and the

lady at his side 
the lady seemed surprised her cheek

flushed her dark eyes dropped their glance 
but the mantilla which halfconcealed her

smooth black hair and floated over the outline

of her small but lovely form could not be

forgiven 
it was an unpardonable sin in a philadelphia

theatre where everybody must dress

like everybody else or be pointed at and put

down 
how odd trembled all over the dress

circle 
at last the lady whispered a word in

spanish 
juan 
he turned and gazed upon her with a look





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



whose mingled meaning it were in vain to

guess and exclaimed with an evident effort


 
you seem melancholy isora in a moment

the curtain will raise and the play begin

it is indeed a very dull place a crowded

theatre 
he leaned back in his seat and the lady

with a single red spot glowing on each cheek

murmured in almost inaudible tones still

speaking in spanish you will remember 
but the
letter
 juan 
a sudden nervous start shook the strangers

frame he turned quickly as though

he had been bitten by an adder a cloud rushed

over his brow 
mastering his agitation he composed his

pale features in a smile 
i cannot show it to you now isora it is

postmarked new orleans your brother is

now in that city he is on his way to philadelphia

he will be here in a few days 
how her face flushed from its sad hue into

a rosy life 
oh i am so happy juan he will be

here in a few days he has forgiven his wayward

sister for her wanderingshe will be

your friend juan is it not so blessed

virgin we will all be so happy 
juan smiled and then his eye flashed his

brow was corrugated the expression of his

sallow face was horribleit passed like a

cloudhe smiled again 
this letter juan is from my brother 
again he started once more that expression

and then the calm smile 
no more now isora when we return

home i will tell you all for the present

your brother don antonio marin will be here

tomorrowperchance tonight 
he said no more but while the curtain

rose and the play went on and the audience

laughed and hissed and stamped he sat with

his cheek upon his hand his large eyes fixed

upon the stage with an absent stare 
it cannot be denied that his face was in


vested with a cold pallid beauty the firm

aquiline features stood out in the glaring

light like the head of an antique statue darkened

by the dust of ages yet never once

during all the play did he turn from side to

side or change his fixed unvarying glance

though forrest was on the stage and the play

was richlieuforrest and richlieu after

the shameless display of a halfnaked womans

limbs 
the play was over and the audience

pouring from the various boxes of the theatre

swarmed through the outer corridor and

swept like a torrent into the street 
amid the crowd descending the stone steps

in front of the theatre the form of juan and

the lady were marked prominent his head

rising above the crowd her mantilla contrasting

with the rainbow dress of the other women


 
the other women yescourtezan and

fine lady mingled together in the crowd that

poured from the doors of the theatre and the

flaming gaslamp on the pavement disclosed

with impartial light the face of the sinless

girl and the painted visage of her sisterwoman

the child of shame 
suddenly even as juan and isora were descending

the steps a cry was heard the

crowd rocked to and froa strange wave of

human facesand universal clamor and confusion

tossed the strongly contrasted mass together


 
it was shouted that the stranger had been

robbed his pocketbook stolen four or five

men with red faces and noses of extraordinary

development were seen rushing toward

him making with their fists an extemporaneous

lane through the centre of the

crowd 
they were known at once as police officers


 
i say mister cried the foremost a rotund

man on whose richcolored visage brandy

had not been showered for nothing i saw

the fellow hook your pocketbookwill know





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



him agin whats the figur damage very

serous 
juan bent his lips to the ear of the redfaced

man as his brow manifested deep vexation

and chagrin 
five thousand dollars were in that pocketbook

if you reclaim it by tomorrow morning


without touching the papers which it contains


one thousand shall be yours 
wont i why ive had my eye on the

feller these three weeks and knowd he was

up to mischief your residence sir the

pocket book ill be in your hands before nine

oclock tomorrow morning 
enough we understand each other

here is my card and supporting isora with

his arm he pushed down the steps and presently

stood on the edge of the pavement

where stood a glittering carriage with a coat

of arms on the panels a liveried footman

holding the open door and a coachman also

in livery snoring on the box 
rather aristocratic murmured voices

from the crowd 
splendid turn out 
just look at them blooded baysand that

darkey with one eye and a blue coat 
isora you will enter and go home alone

urgent business demands my presence elsewhere

for an hour or more nay do not

look so reproachful 
from the folds of the mantilla her pale face

appeared as her lustrous eyes were raised to

meet his glance 
her delicate foot was upon the carriage

stepher hand upon the door 
the letter juan 
it was but a whisper and yet her bosom

heaved as she spoke the words 
within two hours i will return home and

tell you all 
he lifted her gently into the carriage

closed the door and spoke to the lacqueys

in a moment the couch was seen dashing

away through the hacks and cabs that lined

the street 


juan turned up ninthstreet murmuring

as the hurried along 
she fades every houri can see her fade

withering drooping into the grave my

brother her only word from hour to hour

she dreams even now that i have gone to

bring
him
home 
at the corner of ninth and george streets

in the shadow of that immense pile known as

the museum a dark horse stood saddled the

bridle held by a liveried servant juan spoke

to the servant and with a bound sprang into

the saddle and dashed away as though his

own spirit had maddened the veins of his

horse 
up ninth street into the ridge road and

out into the country 
it was a gloomy night in may the air was

damp and misty the sky one mass of leaden

cloud 
along the dark roadthe trees on either

side appearing like a shapeless massbounded

the horse striking fire with his hoofs as he

flew while his master applied the spur and

chafed and maddened him to the utmost

stretch of his speed 
through the misty atmosphere a huge

white mass arose looking somewhat like a

mountain of snow shapen by superhuman

hands into the form of a grecian temple it

was a magnificent sight that college of girard

looming through the misty night but

juan did not see it 
his head upon his breast his dark eyes

glaring straight ahead he kept his mettled

horse at the same arrowlike speed and soon

left the college three miles behind 
down the steep hill into the hollow where

an old tavern standssomewhat retired from

the road its lonely sign creaking on rheumatic

hinges 
a light shone out upon the porch as the

foaming horse bounding aside from the road

attracted by the echo of his hoofs the tavern

keeper lantern in hand came to the door 
i wish you to take care of my horse for





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



an hour or so said juan as he bounded from

the saddle upon the road 
the sleepy host rubbed his eyes and surveyed

the stranger with as much amazement as

though he hid been rained from the clouds 
you dont live here about it may be he

drawled hello hes gone dont much

like himvery pucooliar eyes not a bad

horse though 
while the tavern keeper stood wondering

juan had crossed the road leaped the wicket

fence and was now threading a westward

path that led along a broad and gently undulating

meadow 
in the dayiime when the bees fill the air

with their music this meadow is very beautiful

a broad mantle of trembling green

stretched in sight of the dusty road but now

there was a mist upon it a floating shroud

hung over its gentle undulations and veiled its

moist verdure 


soon the path terminated and before the

wanderer rolled the schuylkill its beautiful

hills and picturesque bridges and island of

glorious foliage all shrouded by that misty

veil 
to the north over those rude cliffs and

down into the wilderness where the herbage

and trees are locked in one woven mass of

leaves and flowers up the steep rock that

rises like a wall stone heaped on stone and

mass piled on mass with vines twining all

about itlike little children around a harsh

old warriorand saplings starting from every

cleft then exuberant foliage clothing the

granite heap with a girdle of summer green 
the wanderer stands upon the summit and

feels the night breeze from the river on his

hot brow and sees the mist gliding among

the trees and over the graves of laurel hill














laurel hill







 
 






				 
				
				
			







			 
				
				 
 

				







two coffins in that solitary vault two

only





texan mss






laurel hill
 did you ever see it by daylight

on a sabbath day when the crowd

who come hero to gape about the graves are

locked outon a sabbath day in june when

everything was silent save the bees and all

things motionless as death save the gentle

blossoms trembling above the grass 
it is very beautiful then with its white

monuments and winding walks its high wall

and entrance gate shutting out the hot dusty

road its chapel with stained windows where

prayer is said before the coffin is laid away

in the dismal vault or planted in the fresh

smoking earth altogether a place of perfume

bees and flowers graves burthened with

sculpture and marbles rich in epitaphs 
yet i like it not it looks to me with its

dainty monuments burdened with flowers like

an attempt to be elegant with death and

decorate his fleshless skull with the ribbons

and millinery of the fashionable world 
there is too much mockery too much

mimicry of woe in this elegant cemetry too

much of


here lies my husband
jean


whose affectionate widow still sells ribbons

and laces

at the old stand

no 
rue jacconot







give me an old graveyard where the

graves are hidden among tall grass and wild

flowers where the tombstones peep modestly

above the blossoms and the verdure and a

holy air of repose as if from god imbues

the place where dead people sleep and brings

sweet messages of immortality home to the

soul 
but these fashionable cemetrys mount auburn

greenwood and laurel hill could

you not my dear friends keep fashion in

your ball rooms and leave the grave as it

was in the days of our fathers a holy altar

where none came to look save those who had

friends among the dead 
come boys weve had our dinner and our

wine at the united states hotellobster and

champaigne and all the et ceteraslets take

a cap and go out to laurel hill and have a

jovial chat as we smoke our cigars amongst

the graves 
does that sound very sweet think of a

mother or a sister or a wife sleeping in the

sod while a party of halfdrunken dandies

stroll over their graves venting their obscene

souls in jests that taint the very air i have

even seen one of those wretched manikins

from chestnut street whom the tailor makes

stand on laurel hill plying his opera glass

among the homes of death 
laurel hill is beautiful without all this

garniture of sculpture and millinery of fashion





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



it was beautiful long ago before they made

it a fashionable cemetry 
down by the river where the trees grew

thickest dipping their leaves in the waters

and the bank arises rugged with huge old

forms of rock there is many a solemn walk

among the quiet nooks shrouded in foliage

or over the steeps shaded by the sighing pine

the sunlight comes in stray gleams and

through the trees the river glimpses on the

sight gloomily in the shadows the dark

vaults are seen their iron doors sunken in the

clefts of the rocks while overhead a leafy

canopy waves like a pall 
it was down among these haunts of gloom

that the wanderer bent his steps at dead of

night 
no sunlight now upon the vaults no gleam

of moon or star to light with a solitary ray

those paths leading to the river those windwinding

ways that climb the granite rocks

like the spirits of the dead the mist glides

about the rocks and windsso white and

coldamong the trunks of the centuried

trees 
juan paused before an iron door sunken

beneath a mass of rock with a pine tree shooting

away from the sod in front of it he

took from his breast a key and the harsh

sound of the yielding lock echoed like a shriek

through the silence 
he advanced and in the very air rushing

from the charnel felt that death was there

closing the door he stood in the darkness of

the vault a horrible intense darkness that

seemed to shut him in its stifling folds and

bind him like a cloak 
silence darkness thought 
with a phosphorescent match he produced

a blue and vivid light which glared at once

upon the darkness disclosing the narrow

walls of the vault and shining upon those

coffinsthere are twoplaced side by side on

the floor 
that blueish light burned for a moment


glittered on the silver plate upon each coffins

breast and went out 
the darkness was more horrible from the

glare of that sudden phosphorescent ray 
that ray revealed the features of juan

working with fearful agony and revealed

the names inscribed upon the coffins 
these were the names glaring for a moment

and then gone 

isabel
 

don antonio marin
 
for the first time the wanderer spoke 
i was in the room when john randolph

died and saw him trace upon a card with his

skinny finger a single wordremorse

and saw him die with his eye glazing as he

gloated on it that word i never knew what

it meant till now 
he was silent there was no light to show

the hideous writhing of his face 
isabel isabel you answer me not

for you are cold and deadthe worms upon

your brow the shroud upon your breast

dead you who shone so beautiful in the

home of prairie eden 
isabel when you were dying you told me

that there had been too much blood shed

too much even for the hideous ruin which the

betrayer worked for you you besought me

to bring his body from the vaults of sacrificios

and lay it by your side to show that you

forgave him even in death i have obeyed

today don antonio arrivedhe is here my

sister by your side and i your brother feel


remorse
for the revenge which i hurled on his

dying hour
remorse
 
silence and thought 
speak to me isabel tell me is there a

hope for me beyondthere across the black

grave speak is there one hope isabel

here beside your coffin in the cold dark

vault i kneel and repeat your dying words



the blessed god forgave his murderers even

on the cross

john there has been too

much bloodshedtoo much too much vengeance

is mine and i will repay was spoken





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



by god himself and we john have taken

from god his own time and manner of justice

we have done much wrong let us now forgive


 
i see your dying eyes my sister and hear

your voice 
for forgiveness is such a beautiful blossom

to bloom upon our shrouds when we

are dead 
a pause once moresobstears 
let us forgive and make such recompense

for our wrong as is in the power of

man to make be kind very kind to isora

let her never know her brothers fate bring

hither his body and let let it be plaeed beside

mine when i am dead in token that

after much wrong and horrible crimes we

sleep in death together and sleep in forgiveness


 
these words on your lips you fell back

and grew cold in my arms 
a sound as of a strong heart breaking in

agony 


i kneel isabel i place my hand upon his

coffiniioh god
i forgive him
 
again the silence of death upon the dark

vault 
behold me isabel my free rangers

those outcasts of the land and sea no longer

know that their leader lives i am alone

there is no living breast into whose recesses

i may pour the agony of my soulmay pour

my horrible secret and my remorse for

isoraoh god she is dyingevery moment

she dies before my face i cannot tell her

that it was her brother whom she cursed in the

vaults of sacrificiosno no i come to you

speak to melet me know whether beyond

this dark grave there is a hope whether there

is one star in the midnight sky of death 
and shaken from the proud might of his

vengeance the strong man grovelled beside

the coffins and laid his brow upon the slimy

floor of the vault 

remorse








footnotes







 
 









 an epitaph something like this is recorded on

a marble pile in the great cemetly near paris





















the perishing heathen of philadelphia







 
 






				 
				
				
			







			 
				
				 
 

				







ten thousand in a protestant city who have

no church no bible no god





texan mss






one
night not long ago i stood in a crowded

church and saw three missionaries consecrated

for a great work they were about to

cross the globe and preach the gospel to the

poor of hindostan to aid them in this work

some thousands of dollars were showered upon

the altar nay beautiful women tore the

bracelets from their wrists the pearls from

their bosoms and said 
take these and carry the gospel to the

perishing heathen 
within a stones throw of that magnificent

church at the same hour there occurred a

scene of somewhat different kind behold

it 
leaving the church we will enter this narrow

alley which branches from the main

street in this narrow alley the only light

that shines is from the dingy windows of the

rumshop in this narrow alley at least one

hundred houses or huts are huddled together

some of frame others of brick all with their

windows stuffed with rags 
these houses yield a handsome rent to

their owners you imagine that one family


of three or four persons occupies each

house 
you dont knew philadelphia that is evident


 
let me show you how a single room in

one of these hutsthat one next the tenth

rumshopis occupied 
through the narrow door into this room

with low ceiling black walls and floor some

twelve feet square what have we here by

the light of a penny candle stuck in a porter

bottle you may behold the scene 
close to the wall side by side their knees

drawn up to their chins are crouched at least

twenty human beings from the halfnaked

girl of fifteen to the old man of eighty here

the mother with a baby on her breast there

the negro with his rum bottle and along the

square formed by their huddled forms you

see everything that is miserable in nakedness

disease and rags 
these are the rumshop keepers lodgers

but not all 
all day long they prowl the street picking

rags or begging cold victuals or stealing a

morsel and at night they repose here for one

cent a head 
the porter bottle which illuminates the

room is held by a huge negro who with

rags upon his chest is playing cards with a

white woman who also crouches upon the

floor 
as the greasy pack passes from the white





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



hand to the black hand you see a woman

only a miserable rag upon her formstretched

stiffly out in the centre of the room her

bosom and arms and limbs disclosed by the

light 
that bosom is wasted those arms shrunken

to the bone as for the face you cannot see

it for her black hair streaked with grey falls

over it 
does she sleep 
lift the hair from her face and behold

those stony eyeballs she sleepsand sleeps

all the better that she has had no bread for

three days 
my good missionary friend permit me to

take you by the bow of your white cravat

and lead you from the crowded church into

this roomand dont think me impertinen

when i tell you that the lord jesus will smile

more blessedly upon you if you sell one or

more of your handsomely bound bibles and

buy a little bread a little shelter for these

heathens of philadelphia 
excuse my freedom friend i have an odd

way of saying things but as there is a god

you need not go all the way to hindostan to

find perishing christians 
the breath left her body an hour ago she

is cold now 
the door opens a boy halfnakedfor

his only dress consists of trowsers that reach

to the knee and a check shirt with one sleeve

a boy comes forward to the light you see

his freckled face concealed by a mass of

matted brown hair from beneath whose uneven

ends a pair of bright eyes gleam with

steady lustre 
he may be twelve years old and he may

be fifteen but in sober truth you cannot

guess his age from his face for its lines are

sharpened into premature manhood by a

course of severe study 
poverty and starvation are great thinkers 
mother 


he kneels beside the dead woman and

places his lips to her ears 
mother come i have that which will

buy us bread 
she does not answer himhe shakes her

gently by the armfeels that it is cold 
mother arose the shriek of that poor

wretchs agony you are so coldso hungry

you cant be
dead
comequick i

say he whispered the last words

i have

money mother come

 
the gambling negro turned from his

game 
look yer young gemmen ef you dont

stop yer dam noise ill break yer dam

jaw 
the boy did not disturb the negro any

more he felt his mothers hands and bosom

and knew that she was dead and then went

out into the alley and leaned his face against

the wall and his tears fell without a sound 
she was the only thing that cared for him

in the world she was dead the little boy

looked up to the misty sky and along the alley

and wondered where he should go now

the watchman from the neighboring street

yelledtwo oclock and a cloudy morn

and a dead silence hung over the slumbering

city where could he go that motherless

wretch 
approaching the light which fell from the

rum shop window over the gutter the boy

drew from his rags a pocket book of dark morocco

which he opened and spread forth the

soft silken notes in his dirty hands 
moneyit must be moneyand i cant

readmother could have read em mother

 
his tears fell afresh and he was turning

from the light when a rude hand pinned him

by the shoulder 
come my larkey ill take care of that

money for you o your a precious one

aint you i say charley give us the

barkers well fix this lively youth so that

judge cant ll be pleased to see him a very





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



fine judge is judge cant though he makes

temperance speeches on the bench he can

take quite as big a brandandwater as any

of us 
the boy was surrounded by some half

dozen men with red faces welldeveloped

noses and flashy guardchains 
they were dragging him along the alley

with some force and a few kicks when a

figure advanced from the shadows and confronted

the party 
he had evidently been attracted from the

main street by the cries of the child 
hello its the gentleman that was robbed

well sir you see weve got him we

follered him up watched him and found the

property on his person 
give me the pocket book said juan as

he gazed steadily in the face of the police

officer here is your rewardone thousand

dollars now what will you do with this

poor boy 
o as for him judge cant ill fix him

nothin pleases judge cant so much as to

get hold of a young shaver oh my doesnt

he give em fits 
juan or john of prairie eden as you

please drew near the scared and sobbing

child and swept back the matted hair from

his forehead 
have you a name my little fellow 
never had a name the boys calls me

young rags an my fathers gone away an

my mothers dead an them men have been

a kickin of me 
blurting his many sorrows in a breath he

rubbed his fists in his eyes and sobbed as

though his heart had broken 
if you want to know anything about him

said the police officer with the reddest nose

i kin tell you for ive had my eye upon his

mother and father for this five years past

his father listed this spring in the navy and

haint been heered on since he was a poor

devil enough but once was rayther respectable

that is afore he first left the city some


years back with the runaway bank director

you see mcgregor was once this bank directors

clark 
mcgregor 
john started as he echoed the word 
yas ewen mcgregor 
ewen mcgregor john whispered as he

took the boy by the hand prove this to me

and ill make your information worth money

to you 
his voice was tremulous he laid his hands

on the police officers arm 
prove itwhy we all know it you see

mcgregor went away to texas then jined

the mexican army and last winter came back

to town a poor miserable devil without one

cent to rub against another he found his

wife whom hed deserted years before in a

bad placeyou take ehan jined the

american navy an haint been heerd on

since 
that wife 
about an hour ago when we first set our

watch in the alley to catch this shaver we

found her dead in yonder hole guess she

atnt got alive senceha ha 
come show me where your mother lies

dead 
the ragged boy looked up into those large

dark eyes saw them filled with tears and

took the strangers hand 
come ill show you ye see i was hungry

and mother was cold 
but john of prairie eden did not wait for

the boy to finish his incoherent ejaculations 
the police officers with some wonder and

a few extrajudicial oaths beheld that tall

stranger disappear in the shadows led by

the child to the dark hut where lay his mothers

corse 
into the hut where the negro holds the

light and thumbs the greasy cards 
john bent down lifted the black hair

sprinkled with grey beheld the wasted face

and stony eyes 
years before he had known her so young





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



and beautiful even amid the wreck made

by starvation and disease he knew her and

traced the outlines of what she
had been
in

the withered thing which lay before him stiff

and cold 
you see we hadnt any bread the boy


whimpered that is mother hadnt for

what she could git she give me an i watched

by the theatre an 
john took the little outcast by the hand 
come home with me while i have one

crust left you shall never want



















 
 






				 
				
				
			







			 
				
				 
 

				



 

day
is breaking in the east and the morning

mists glide like phantoms over the broad delaware

the grey light of the dawn steals

through the curtains of the chamber struggling

with the beams of the lamp which

stands near the bed on yonder table 
a sad sight awaits us 
true the chamber is luxuriously furnished

the richly papered walls bloom with the

warm creations of the artists thought the

curtains of the high windows are of satin and

gold the carpet from the looms of smyrna

the bed itself with hangings of white satin and

pillows of down presents an image of voluptuous

repose it is imbued with an atmosphere

of luxury and quiet splendor and yet another

atmosphere is stealing slowly into the place

and covering all things with its vague chilling

mist 
it is the atmosphere of death 
beside the bedthe damps of laurell hill

yet fresh upon his attireis john of prairie

eden his face wearing a dead stupor an apathy

of despair which blunts its well defined


outlines and covers his eyes as with a glossy

film 
the sorrow is too crushing for him to feel

it now he cannot feel it cannot believe

the air seems but a mass of whirling phantoms

it is not reality but a dream 
a dream and yet tomorrow 
isora lies upon the snowy coverlet of that

bed her form but halfclad she rests with

her hands folded her white bosom gleaming

ing the light her eyes closed the fringes reposing

on the colorless cheek her hair descending

over her shoulders and resting in

glossy curls upon her arms 
does she breathe ah the bosom seems

pulseless cold 
a faint trembling of the lower lip alone attests

that the soul is quivering there ere it

departs forever 
so gently she dies that it but seems like

gliding into a pleasant sleep so softly passes

her soul away that it seems a lilly torn from

its stem and cast upon a smooth lake that

bears it tenderly upon its breast and ripples in

low music round it as it floats along




				 
				
				
			






			 
				
				 
 

				






at last her lids unclose how black how

flashing how beauliful those deathdewed

eyes 
juan 
she knew him and reached forth her hand 
he took it pressed it to his lips and bosom

it was wet with moisture from the kiss

of death 
juan i am going ever since the day

when the rite of the church blessed our union

i have felt a burning here 
he laid her little hand upon her naked bosom


 
last night when i came home i laid me

down to sleep and felt that in that sleep my

soul was going fast away yet i could not

until now unclose my eyes or manifest by any

sign i knew you were here i heard your

groans juan your prayers i felt your tears

upon my cheek but could not speak to you

a few moments now are given to me and

let me lay my head upon your breast and

wind my arms about your neck and die my

heart shall beat against yours when it flutters

its last my last breath mingle with your kiss

i am so happy so much peace do not

weep juan there is a bright angel at the

foot of toe bed who lifts his white wings and

says come 
he had taken her to his breast and wound

her arms about his neckah they were so

coldand covered his eyes with her silken

hair but he could not speak 
when you see my brother for he will

come juantell him that i spoke of him to

the last and died so happy because i knew

that he had forgiven me tell himah

juan my arms are cold i cannot move my


fingers is it dark juan or have my eyes

been covered by a veil 
over his shoulder she raised her head

glaring around with her large deep eyes

they were glassya misty film shrouded

their dazzling brightness 
how her slight form rocked as his broad

chest heaved and struggled and fell with the

overwhelming agony of that hour yet he

spoke not but grasping her hair swept its

glossy masses over his eyes and wept aloud 
it is dark juani cannot see you holy

virgin mary mother of god pity and forgive

me a weak weak child closer juan

kiss me ice upon my heart juan ice but

i can feel your lips your breath warms my

cheek my brother juan tell himah

the white angel lifts his wingsi see him now


it is light again
come come 
a trembling flutter of the lips and the

white angel has borne a spirit home 
those icy arms are round his neck that

icy breast against his own the glassy eyes

how cold how dead they glare the lips that

are pressed to his are chilled and colorless

forever 
still he tries to dry the tears with the soft

masses of her silken hair and kisses her cold

lips as if to win back the departed soul 
little did the proud revengeful man imagine

this hour when in her home of vera

cruz he cruelly planned her shame that he

should ever weep hot scalding tears for the

sister of don antonio that he should love

her better than life or what to the proud heart

is worth all revenge and press her dead

breast to his heart and drench her silken hair

with the baptism of her agony 
may be some white angel had changed his





				 
				
				
			




			 
				
				 
 

				



breast and turned the blight of his revenge

into a blessing fresh from god 
she died the victim of a rapid and imperceptible

decay but died without knowing that

her brother was the writhing wretch of the

aztec vanlt of sacrificios the destroyer o


prairie eden its beautiful maiden white

haired old man and blueeyed boy 
for that ignorance which hailed her dying

hour let us bless the white angel who lifted

its wings as she grew cold and whispered

come



 the end 




